


A Sorta Taylor Lautner Situation

by Sassaphrass



Series: Werewolf Bucky- AU [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Animal Transformation, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky is a Werewolf, Friendship, M/M, Nat and Steve are Bros 5eva, SO MUCH SADNESS, Sadness, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Tony wants to adopt him as a pet, Unhealthy Relationships, prepare for tears, things get complicated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-03-16 06:36:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3478094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sassaphrass/pseuds/Sassaphrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony has seen a whole lot of crazy in his time, he'd thought there was nothing that could surprise him. </p><p>But, Captain America's dog turning out to have the ability to turn into a scruffy looking handsome guy? </p><p>Yeah, he hadn't seen that one coming...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Man's Best Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Big shout out to AliceAce14 without who's comment I probably never would have written this fic!
> 
> You should probably read the first one (Like Lon Chaney) of these because it won't make much sense otherwise, but for the lazy here's a summary: 
> 
> Bucky's a werewolf. He fully transforms into a wolf during the three days surrounding the full moon and rampages around killing people. He has a certain ability to control whether or not he changes back into a human at the end of the full moon but if he doesn't he'll be stuck as a wolf for the whole month. Due to the killing thing him and Steve are currently on rocky ground in there friendship, but right now Bucky (currently in wolf form) is living with Steve in one of the most awkward roommate situations ever. Tony thinks that Bucky is like, the cutest dog ever and would like to kidnap him. 
> 
> Seriously, just go read the first one in this series, it'll make a lot more sense.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of past torture and experimentation (none is depicted in the fic). Also Steve and Bucky combined have the emotional intelligence of a pigeon, and act accordingly.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edit 2/12/2016: Hi guys! I've gotten a lot of comments from people unhappy with how this fic portrays Steve/Steve and Bucky's relationship, and there's not really anything I can say in response because overall I have to admit that of all the works I have on this site this is probably the one I'm least happy with and which really fails to convey what I was trying to convey. 
> 
> With that in mind I've decided to remove it from the site. I've been considering doing so for a while, but this is one of my more popular fics, so I'm giving those who love it some pretty advance notice. So! If you want to download or save this fic elsewhere you have a month to do so. I will be deleting this sometime in January.

Steve came back bloody. Bucky twitched and raised his head when he heard the door. He'd been watching it for the last hour. He could smell that the blood isn't Steve's.

 

Steve sighed and dropped the shield behind the boots before turning to stare at the huge wolf-like dog that was lying facing the door.

 

“I'm fine” he said. “This is just a flying visit anyway. I'm heading out again tomorrow.” He frowned looking at where Bucky was lying- stretched out on most of the floor that was not the couch despite the fact that a blanket had been carefully laid out top of a few pillows on said couch. “I set the blanket out for you.”

 

Bucky huffed and heaved himself to his feet, making a show of turning his back on Steve.

 

“You're not a dog.” Steve snapped. “Don't act like one.”

 

Bucky froze and, as much he could glare in this skin, glared at Steve. He thought that they had silently agreed not to talk about their lives before what they had both become, not to mention that time a few months ago when Steve had come home on the second day of the full moon to unexpectedly find Bucky sitting naked on the couch eating yogurt and wearing his human skin.

 

They'd both just stared at each other in frozen shock for a minute and then Bucky had bolted for the closet where Steve kept The Crate That They Did Not Mention Ever and hadn't come out again. When Steve opened the door the next morning Bucky had been a wolf again. They'd let the event pass in silence.

Well, obviously Bucky was silent. Wolves aren't dogs but neither of them are what you'd call loquacious creatures.

 

Case in point: Bucky would've really liked to have been able to throw some snappy comeback back in Steve's face right now but had to settle for curling his lip instead.

 

Steve just let out one of those long slow breaths, something that was just this side of a sigh, and shuffled off towards the bathroom.

 

Bucky lay back down on the floor and listened as Steve showered, and then padded in bare feet through the connecting door into his bedroom.

 

Bucky closed his eyes listening to the faint sounds of Steve getting read for bed.

 

He dreamed of Steve. _His_ Steve, not the achingly familiar stranger with a silent centre that he'd been living with for the last few months but the fierce bird-boned kid who'd given away his lunch because the dirty little kid crouching by the fruit stand looked hungry.

 

The person with a heart big enough to fit the whole world who'd talked and fought and screamed at it in an attempt to make it better. Bucky's one piece of kindness in a cruel world.

 

Bucky was woken up by his own whining.

 

He lay for a moment staring at the door of Steve's room before standing and walking over, his claws clicking against the hardwood floor.

 

The doors in Steve's place have handles like levers that Bucky can easily nose open even in this form.

 

The door creaked open and Steve's deep even breathing stalled before Bucky even stepped through the door. There wasn't hardly even a second before Steve had lunged for his gun and turned on his bedside lamp in the same motion.

 

He relaxed when he saw that it was Bucky and then tossed the gun back into the drawer, before collapsing back onto the bed.

 

He lay there looking at Bucky. Maybe it was the softness of sleep or the warmth of the bedside lamp or Bucky's only half-remembered dreams but for the first time in a long time this new Steve, the 21st century dweller, seemed more like the bird-boned boy from Brooklyn than the square jawed Captain America.

 

He curled up facing Bucky and laid his arm out towards the wolf, palm up.

 

Bucky click-clacked his way forward and rested his head on the edge of the bed, unsure if the outstetched hand was an invitation or not.

 

Steve frowned, made a sad noise in the back of his throat and wiggled his fingers, beckoning Bucky closer.

 

Hesitantly Bucky shuffled forward and stretched his neck out so that his head rested on Steve's palm.

 

Steve smiled and reached over to run his fingers over the soft fine fur on Bucky's ears.

 

 

Bucky didn't want to cry, and wolves generally don't, but he couldn't hold back the shuddering whines and whimpers that tore through he chest at being touched with such gentleness by Steve for the first time in so very very long.

 

Steve tsked and brought his other hand up- craddling Bucky's head and rubbing his tumbs along either side of his snout. “None of that.” he ordered.

 

Bucky took a risk and heaved his front paws up onto the bed.  
  


Steve did that long slow breath thing again and Bucky froze waiting to be told he wasn't wanted, get off, get down, how could Steve trust a _monster_ like him to be in the same room while he was sleeping- let alone the same _bed_?!

 

But, Steve just patted the bed next to him with a resigned expression. That was all the encouragement Bucky needed and he launched himself up and at Steve, landing with his head pressed to the blonde's chest and his body curled as close to him as he could.

 

Steve wrapped his arms around the whimpered wolf, and sighed.

 

“Bucky....what am I going to do with you?”

 

It was the first time since Bucky had shown up at Steve's door as a big black wolf that Steve had used his name.

 

It was the first time Steve had said that name since 1942.

 

Bucky shrugged, and tried to stop whimpering like a stupid fucking lapdog that'd been left alone too long. He leaned over and licked Steve's face.

 

It shocked a laugh out of him at least.

 

Steve lay down again once Bucky stopped whimpering but, he kept trailing one hand through the fur on Bucky's back.

 

“Tomorrow is the full moon.” he whispered into the darkness.

 

Bucky shifted to get a better look at Steve's face. Steve forced a smile. “Don't worry. I'll think of something.”

 

That night Bucky slept curled up next to Steve, his head resting on the man's chest listening to the new rhythms of his familiar heartbeat.


	2. Dog Sitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is very happy to dog-sit for Cap. Even if it is technically JARVIS who's doing it. 
> 
> Whatever, it still totally counts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit 2/12/2016: Hi guys! I've gotten a lot of comments from people unhappy with how this fic portrays Steve/Steve and Bucky's relationship, and there's not really anything I can say in response because overall I have to admit that of all the works I have on this site this is probably the one I'm least happy with and which really fails to convey what I was trying to convey. 
> 
> With that in mind I've decided to remove it from the site. I've been considering doing so for a while, but this is one of my more popular fics, so I'm giving those who love it some pretty advance notice. So! If you want to download or save this fic elsewhere you have a month to do so. I will be deleting this sometime in January.

 

Tony was quite pleased and surprised when Steve asked if he could leave his dog at the tower while they went on an away mission.

 

Pleased because Tony had a strong feeling that Something Was Up with that dog and his stay in the tower gave him (well, Jarvis but he prefers to think of JARVIS as a prothetic for the mind) the perfect oppurtunity to gather data.

 

Surprised because while the dog had been to the tower enough times that pretty much every single one of the Avengers (except Steve) had given him a name (different names yes but at least they called him something instead of staring at him with bizarre intensity the way Steve did), previous overnight missions on Steve's part had not prompted Steve to leave the dog with Tony. Even those few times where Steve had been away and Tony hadn't.

 

Though maybe that had to do with the time Tony had shooed the dog into a different room and then tried to pretend Steve hadn't brought him when Steve decided to leave.

 

Though Tony would like to state for the record that lifting him off the ground by the collar and growling “Give. Me. My. Dog.” and then when Tony had tried to explain that he really thought the dog might be better off somewhere where he could you know, lie full length without hitting any walls, throwing him to the ground and hissing with a voice that must have been at zero Kelvin “Over my dead body.” Was, in fact, a bit of an over reaction.

 

What had really stung was that no one had been on his side in the whole affair. I mean, what's a little attempted dog-napping amongst friends?

 

So, yeah, when Steve had dropped by to leave the dog there and give some instructions to Jarvis about how he would need to be locked up at night since he tended to become quote 'agitated and aggressive' if left alone at night, Tony had pretended to go put on his suit but had really been hiding in the lab glued to the feed like it was the season finale of “The Real Housewives of Atlanta”.

 

Steve stood about two feet in front of his dog and was doing that awkward staring thing again, the dog seemed to have gotten that memo cause he was sitting and looking back at Steve just as intently but slightly more forlornly.

 

“So.” Steve said.

 

The dog kept staring.

 

“I'll just be gone a few days, everyone else will be with me so- don't worry. Though I know that you always worry.”

 

There was an awkward pause.

 

“Try not to break anything. The robots will feed you. They aren't evil. I thought they might be but Tony assures me there are safeguards against that.”

 

The dog tilted his head.

 

“Yeah, I know. Not comforting.”

 

Another long pause. The dog's head returned to it's neutral position.

 

Steve sighed and rubbed the back of his neck looking around the penthouse living room. “Just remember you're a guest here, try your absolute hardest not to wreck or damage anything. God knows Tony probably paid more for that sofa than it took Howard to develop my shield...” he trailed off and looked back at the dog.

 

“Right.”

 

Steve scrubbed his ran his fingers through his hair and laughed hollowly. “You're not going to answer. Because you are a wolf and not a person.”

 

The dog whimpered and moved a fraction of an inch closer to Steve.

 

“Bye. Be good for Tony's creepy disembodied computer butler okay?”

 

The dog thumped his tail once.

 

Steve turned around and took a second to visibly compose himself. He murmured something that was too low for the mics to catch but based on JARVIS' lip reading abilities he said something like

 

“It's okay. He's okay. I'm okay.”

 

Tony watched in awe as Steve visibly stopped being Stephen Rogers- kid from Brooklyn and became Captain America- A Hero to the Nation, an Inspiration to us all-, and Captain America turned and looked the camera dead on with an expression that promised sure and swift retributive justice.

 

“oh shiiit!” Tony sqweaked as he scrambled away from the screen and practically dove into his suit.

 

He was just slamming the helmet onto his head when Steve appeared in the doorway looking distinctly unimpressed.

 

“So.” Steve said. “I'm assuming you were watching?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“I was totally not watching, but if I were- I would wonder why you never pet that poor devoted creature.”

 

“I'm alergic, it gives me hives.” Steve replied, dead serious.

 

“Wha- Really?”

 

“No.” Steve deadpaned.

 

 

\----

 

 

Bucky liked Tony's place. It was big and roomy, and there was usually a lot of sun. He'd missed the sun he realized, back during that strange confused period where memories of whole years had disappeared to that same oblivion that swallowed what he does on the nights of the full moon.

 

 

Tonight was the night of the full moon. Bucky can tell by the energy humming under his skin.

 

It's why Steve brought him here. He's worried that if he locked him in the crate at home Bucky might manage to get out and once he was out...

 

Bucky appreciated that Steve thought about those things. Bucky couldn't. He'd never been able to.

 

His mind briefly conjured up an image of a severed head with it's face still caught in a look of comical shock before he sent his thoughts skittering away from it.

 

Still there's sunlight and food. He considered lying on that couch but Steve's right. He was a guest, and he hasn't properly washed since he last wore his human skin which was...3 months ago already now?

 

He lay down in the sun waiting for the evening when he'd be locked in his crate by one of robots.

 

He was surprised when he woke up the next morning to find himself in human skin. At first he couldn't help but smile at the novelty of it-wiggling his toes and running his fingers through his (too long hair). But then the panic washed over him.

 

He's _human_. And life hurt's so much more when you have to meet it with a fragile human skin. 

 

He scrambled to the door of the crate grateful that, while sturdy, the bars are at least spaced far enough apart that he can reach through and unlatch the thing with only a minimum of contortionism.

 

He slipped out and stood on his own two feet for the first time in a long time.

 

That's when he remembers that he's naked and humans tend to get cold without any clothes.

 

He wandered out into the living room and grabbed the blanket that he knows Tony had left out for him. No matter what sputtering lies the man had told Steve Bucky knew that Tony had taken a second to artfully dishevel the blanket so it was mostly on the floor and easily pulled completely onto it even with nothing but four clumsy feet and a too cold nose. He draped it over his shoulders and ambled toward the fridge by the bar.

 

Now that his skin was shielded there was something pleasant about his bare feet on the cool marble floor.

 

He grabbed a can with a bright yellow foil lid and pulled the tab, smiling around the sour-sweetness of the fizzy soda.

 

That's the best part of being human, and he couldn't believe it only took him a few months to forget. The _taste_ of things in this body.

 

He rooted through the fridge. There are strawberries! Here! In April!!!

 

He slid down and ate the berries from the basket letting the juice flow sweet and sticky over his tongue.

 

He fried an egg the way he likes it (Steve never leaves the yokes runny). He devoured all the chocolate he could find, and then he considered going out onto the balcony. Part of him wanted to. It's a strange and beautiful thing to be high up. But, another saner (or maybe insaner) part of him didn't trust that he'd be able to resist the urge to jump if he looked over the edge. He probably wouldn't die if he did. Probably.

 

He wandered into the bathroom and let the blanket fall as he steped into the shower, and found himself drawing up short. There. Are. Too. Many. Levers. And. Buttons.

 

He was about to pull one at random when a voice from above made him jump.

 

“Would you be requiring my assistance, sir?”

 

It startled him so badly he nearly fell against the glass and only just manages to catch himself in to time keep from crashing through it.

 

“Are you quite well sir?” The voice asked.

 

Right. Tony's totally not evil computer butler.

 

 

“I-” the words stuck in his throat feeling heavy and rough after so long in silence. He tried again. “I just want to have a shower.”

 

“Do you have any preferred settings?”

 

“No.”

 

“Very well, sir. I will run the standard guest cycle.”

 

“Uh, Thanks.” Bucky rasped.

 

“Not a problem sir.”

 

The hot water started flowing and Bucky let himself relax.

 

\----

 

Tony sauntered onto the Quinjet and waited as JARVIS automatically synced with the greater network.

 

“Sir, there's been unusual activity in the apartment.” The AI's voice echoed tinnily from the helmet that Tony had slung under his arm.

 

“Is it dangerous? Or ugent?” Tony asked distractedly as he tried to eye Steve and inconspicuously as possible.

 

The Captain trudged over to the bench and collapsed onto it, exhausted.

 

“No, sir. It does not appear so.”

 

“Then it can wait till I get back.”


	3. Security Cam Footage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony watches the security footage and gets quite the surprise. Unfortunately, Steve isn't being helpful.

“Is now a more convenient time sir?” JARVIS asked the second Tony stepped out of his suit into his workshop.

 

It's always disconcerting when your AI starts judging you, Tony wondered if that was what parents felt like all the time. It almost made him feel sympathetic to the old man. Almost.

 

“Keep your silicone chip shorts on JARVIS. What is it?” Tony asked.

 

“It would appear that Captain Roger's...animal can transform into a rather handsome young man.” JARVIS declared in mild mannered, computerized British alarm.

 

Tony gaped at nothing. “Say again?”

 

“The wolf-”

 

“It's a dog-”

 

“It's most definitely a wolf sir.” JARVIS stated a bit peevishly. “The wolf was locked in the crate at the appointed hour and seemed greatly agitated throughout the night. However come the morning he welll-”

 

The holo-projection screen lit up with security footage of the spare bedroom where Tony had stashed the crate. The dog could be seen agitated and pacing, occasionally throwing itself at the grating.

 

“Jeez, Steve was not kidding about him having some behavioural issues.” Tony murmured

 

Suddenly the dog started spasming and jerking. It looked like the bones beneath his skin were breaking, the flesh roiling. It was disgusting and judging by the howling of the creature, it was painful.

 

And suddenly it stopped and where the dog (wolf according to know-it-all JARVIS) had been was a, yes okay, pretty handsome looking dude who looked pretty fucking jacked if slightly undernourished and had a long shaggy mess of dark brown hair.

 

Tony watched, trying to keep his jaw off the floor, as a few minutes later the man reached through bars and unlocked his cage. JARVIS then adjusted the footage to follow the man around- speeding up the uninteresting bits.

 

The interloper ambled around Tony's apartment stark naked except for the blanket, ate all his strawberries and took one bite out of everything in the fridge before settling (apparently) on frying some eggs. 

He then preceded to wash and put away all cleaning utensiles before ambling into the bathroon to enjoy Tony's specially designed shower (according to JARVIS even Tony wasn't paranoid enough to put cameras in the bathroom, at least not yet).

 

The young man then ambled around completely naked, lay on Tony's custom sofa (naked) and had a brief but intense battle with the entertainment system. Apparently defeated by it, he sprawled out (still naked and still on Tony's expensive sofa) and started reading Tony's magazines all day (pausing only to help himself to some Chinese leftovers) before sauntering back to the crate and locking himself back in.

 

He sat there for a while before the same...process as the morning started again. It looked like all his bones were breaking as he spasmed and seized, screaming like he was being murdered the entire time.

 

Tony grimaced. It was even more unpleasant this time. Eventually the seizing and breaking bones stopped and there was the familiar giant wolf-dog. Dark brown, nearly black, like a wolf, but larger.

 

Tony wished he could whistle through his teeth. This seemed like it would be an appropriate moment for that.

 

“JARVIS,” he murmured distantly. “Please ask Captain Rogers to stop by my workshop before he picks up his dog.”

 

 

“Of course sir.”

\------

 

Steve looked pretty exasperated when he tromped down the steps to Tony's private lab.

 

“If this is another dog-napping attempt Tony-” he growled before he was even in the door.

 

“No.” Tony snapped pointing to the holoscreen which was paused on the video of the young man unlocking himself from the cage. “Did you know your dog is not only not a dog but a 200lb wolf, which would be disturbing enough, but that he turned himself into a man for about 12 hours the day before yesterday.”

 

Steve face froze, and he stared at the ceiling before taking a long breath and slowly saying: “Yeah....he...does that..sometimes.”

 

Okay, Tony needed to sit down. His work bench was the closest available surface. “Are you telling me that you left an animal here which you not only knew to be psychotic like 50% of the time-”

 

“It's the full moon it...upsets hims?” Steve tried to protest but Tony just kept talking.

 

“- but you knowingly let an unknown person past my security?!”

 

Another horrifying thought occurred to Tony. “NOT to even mention the fact that he is a PERSON who has been living as your DOG for what? Like 6 months now?!” Tony was freaking out. He hadn't freaked out this much when New York was invaded by aliens!

 

“TONY!” Steve shouted, using his Truth-Justice-and-Liberty voice. “Calm Down.”

 

Tony stared at him wide eyed. “I've been _petting_ him, man.”

 

Steve nodded slowly. “I know.” Steve leaned up against the workbench. “Given that one of our closest mutual friends is a Norse deity I'm surprised you're so upset about this.”

 

Tony pointed a wrench at him. “No, he is not a god- He is an advanced humanoid alien species. This is...this is a Taylor Lautner situation and I for one am not having it! When did he do this before?”

 

Steve looked unimpressed. “A few months ago I came back from a mission and found him eating yogurt on my couch. The second he saw me he swan dived into the storage cupboard where I keep the crate, locked himself in, didn't say a word and changed back that night.” He shrugged. “We live in a time of Gods and Monsters.”

 

Tony stared at him in horror. “You've known for months? Why didn't you bring this to me or to Bruce or to Thor? -If anyone has a handle on freaky unknowable shape shifting terrors it would be Thor.”

 

Steve glared. “Why would I do that? He seems happy enough.”

 

“He's a person! He's living as a dog, how can you not see how fucked up that is?!”

 

Steve shrugged. “As far as I can tell he's choosing to live as a dog. He only changes into a person when no one's around, if someone shows up he doesn't speak or anything.”

 

“Maybe he needs help? Did that occur to you? Maybe it's some sort of Asgardian shit and he's stuck. Or maybe he-” Tony trailed off sputtering. He smacked the wrench against the table decisively before pointing it at Steve again. “I'm telling the others!” He declared.

 

“Please, don't.” Steve murmured.

 

“This is serious shit Steve! Worst case scenario he's infiltrating us for nefarious means, best case scenario he's a human who's so fucked up and fucked over by life that he'd rather live as a pet. Why are you not seeing how fucked up this is?!”

 

Steve pressed his lips together and then did not come even close to answering that question. “He likes to be petted. He doesn't like scientists. You tell the others they'll be like you and me- they won't be able to interact with him normally anymore. You tell the others and they'll take him to scientists and he'll freak out and kill someone.”

 

“ _Kill_ someone?”

 

“He's two hundred pounds of angry canine muscle. He'd kill someone. He _has_ killed people.”

 

Tony froze and blinked a few times.

 

“I've been tickling his chin for months..” he whimpered, his mind unfortunately stuck on a loop of canine fury and subsequent human dismemberment.

 

Steve shrugged and stuck his hands deep into his pockets. “Well, to be fair, he seems to like that.”

 

Tony gaped at him. “I'm starting to think that you're just as fucked as he is!”

 

Steve smiled his big sad smile, the one that Tony had seen a thousand times if he'd seen it once. “Now, why would you think a thing like that, Tony?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I technically don't have any more of this fic written as of yet, but if you guys want me to continue let me know... I'll probably update sporadically either way. 
> 
> Anyway, hope y'all like Tony. He's fun to write.
> 
> Edit 2/12/2016: Hi guys! I've gotten a lot of comments from people unhappy with how this fic portrays Steve/Steve and Bucky's relationship, and there's not really anything I can say in response because overall I have to admit that of all the works I have on this site this is probably the one I'm least happy with and which really fails to convey what I was trying to convey. 
> 
> With that in mind I've decided to remove it from the site. I've been considering doing so for a while, but this is one of my more popular fics, so I'm giving those who love it some pretty advance notice. So! If you want to download or save this fic elsewhere you have a month to do so. I will be deleting this sometime in January.


	4. Intelligence Tests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's attempts to make things better inevitably make things worse. Bucky doesn't know what to do. Sam Wilson is perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS!!! THANKS SO MUCH FOR ALL THE COMMENTS LAST WEEK!!!! It really encouraged me to keep going with this. I honestly hadn't been sure anyone was interested, so THANK YOU ALL!!!!

Tony stared intently at the d-wolf. The wolf. The wolf who he should under no circumstances refer to as Mr. Muffins. Because that was _weird_ now that he knew said wolf was also occasionally a human-dude that apparently had greatly enjoyed the passion fruit body wash in Tony's shower (his personal shower btw) judging by the smell wafting off him (only slightly muted by the smell of dog). 

 

He had bargained his silence for a few days of close observation and hypothesis testing on the Ameri-pooch. However, whatever human this fellow was clearly was an asshole because said dog was being _highly_ uncooperative.

 

“Cmmon. Just thump your tail once if you can understand me.” Tony pleaded.

 

The wolf somehow managed to look unimpressed and glanced over to where Steve of was leaning against the wall as if to silently ask “is he serious right now?”

 

Steve shrugged. “The butler told him. Just give him what he wants and maybe he'll shut up.”

 

The wolf tilted it's head to one side which apparently communicated something to Steve since he immediately snapped. “Don't give me that look! You got us into this mess.”

 

The wolf's head and ears immediately drooped and he lay down with his head on his paws and gave a very melancholy 'whap' of his tail.

 

Tony smiled at the wolf who let out a long low whine.

 

Tony tried to smile encouragingly but he could tell that Steve was his making his patented “I-told-you-so-but-I'm-too-much-a-good-person-to-mention-that” face. He _will not_ give the sanctimonious prick the satisfaction.

 

Tony could feel that Steve had ratchetted is look up from “santomonious self-sastisfaction” to “blistering death glare” but refused to acknowledge it.

 

“You can play all the intelligence testing games you want Tony. I'll stay over for two more nights, after that we're gone.” Tony heard Steve say (he was still ignoring him)

 

“And.” Steve stated icily. “You will not under any circumstances take him to you lab or tell anyone about what he really is. Because- you may be good but I'm better and I will get you for it if you do.”

 

Tony thought that Steve probably would have liked to punctuate this throwing down of the gantlet by slamming the door in a dramatic exit but he was thwarted in that desire by the fact that the door was an automatic motion sensored, air-locked sliding door.

 

Tony made a face at the dog. “He's such a little drama queen isn't he?”

 

Tony was not yet as adept at interpreting the minute canine-expressions of the wolf but he liked to think that The Wolf Qith No Name (would it be weird to refer to said wolf as Clint Eastwolf...it would wouldn't it?) was gazing at him in deep understanding and comisseration.

 

Tony pulled out a bunch of coloured blocks that he'd gotten Happy to run out and get for him.

 

“Alright, let's test your comprehension of basic colours and shapes, shall we?”

 

The wolf did not look happy about that.

 

\---------

Bucky's body ached these days, ever since the last full moon. It was not the sharp bone breaking agony of the shift that made a few minutes feel like a lifetime of agony but more like acid slowly seeping into his bones. It faded into the background even though doing everything felt more difficult than before.

 

Dealing with Tony for example, became a literal pain.

 

Bucky learned in the next few weeks all the best ways of getting away from Tony. While the Tower had once seemed a refuge from the tense unspoken things between him and Steve, now even heading uptown filled him with anxiety.

The second he was in the door he was searching for one of the other Avengers, any of the other avengers, who would shoo Tony away from him.

 

Natasha was the best Tony repellent since she seemed to make him extremely nervous, but half the time she'd lose patience with him or join in on Tony's 'game' and that was not. Good.

 

The most reliable (even if not the most effective) protection was Bruce, since he prefered calm and quiet and could empathize with a dog that didn't want to be constantly studied and tested for his IQ and so tended to just stare silently at Tony until he went away while letting Bucky hide behind him. Which was nice. Bucky had never before appreciated the quiet scientist because, to be frank, the man was a little stingy with the ear scratches, but whatever, obviously he had hidden depths that Bucky had just failed to pick up on before now.

 

The least effective (though also the only one who actually _tried_ ) Tony repellent was Steve, because despite the fact that Steve was often stepping between Tony and Bucky, telling him to 'Buzz off” or occasionally actually physically trying to swat him away like a fly, Tony completely ignored the larger man and would continue in his dogged pursuit of studying Bucky.

 

Whereas before the highlight of Bucky's days had actually been going to the tower where everybody was happy to see him, and there were plenty of cuddles, now that that had been ruined- it was going running with Steve. They raced together down the deserted streets at dawn, Bucky loping along to keep pace with Steve. These were the only moments in the day when everything seemed easy between the two of them again. They were each the only running partner who could keep up that the other was likely ever going to be able to find. It was, also, the only time he loosened up enough for the pain to ebb away.

It usually did hurt when he resisted the change and stayed a wolf but never like _this_  and **never** for this long afterwards _._

 

So, he did what he almost always eventually did when he was in wolf form between the moons (excepting those few times when he bought the sanctity of his own mind in blood) and he just sort of drifted away into the comforting haze of small canine thoughts. Food. Safety. People who were his and people who...weren't

 

until eventually

 

there weren't even words anymore.

 

And he could just be.

 

\--------------------

 

Sam Wilson spend a lot of his free time worrying about other people. Hell, he sent most of his working time worrying about other people. That was kind of his job. But, since it was part of his job he usually was able to be a bit more detached about it- to trust that he couldn't save everyone, that the problems of the world were not his to shoulder, to let people go and do what they wanted even though he worried. 

 

But.

 

The man who hadn't remembered his own name but had only thought to ask for a Shakespear play, despite being hungry and wearing borrowed clothing at the time, had stuck firmly in his memory and it was _eating_ at him.

 

It was worse than Steve, because while Steve _clearly_ needed help and wasn't even allowing himself to acknowledge that he needed help let alone _ask_ for help, at least he was, you know, a national icon who was surrounded by equally broken people one of whom was a billionaire so at least there were people keeping an eye on him (and money for therapy should he ever come to his senses).

 

But, Bucky (if that was even his name, what sort of life did someone have to have had that they thought of 'Dog' to refer to themselves before they thought of a human name?) is alone. Completely alone, and, judging by the scars and everything that Sam later learned about HYDRA, an escapee from some pretty shady and illegal human experimentation.

 

Or maybe Sam was catastrophising. That happened sometimes.

 

But, then again the snarky dude he met jogging did turn up at his door one morning and ask him to help take down a major government organisation. So. It's not paranoia if they're _actually_ out to get you.

 

Anyway, Bucky had lived happily and quietly at the shelter, without incident, for nearly a month before disappearing off into the oblivion without even taking the damn book that Sam had sent him. Or at least not taking all of it, a few pages in the centre had been torn out.

 

It gave Sam a bad feeling was all. Bucky could have been snatched off the street and there would be no one to look for him. He could have gotten hurt and no one would care.

 

Sam didn't know Bucky. He'd barely spoken to the man, but there was something about a viciously scarred, silently weeping, naked man that just stuck in the mind.

 

Sam had actually been offhandedly putting together some ideas for a treatment plan for the poor guy (this was if they could get confirmation he was actually a vet, which given the whole HYDRA thing, was probably a pretty moot point these days). And then he'd called the shelter and they'd said he'd just..stopped coming by. And that was it.

There was nothing else Sam could do for Bucky, not unless, by chance, he saw him on the street. 

 

But, Steve, national icon or not, _was_ someone that Sam could do something for. So, he did what he could do. He called Steve up to make sure he was doing okay in New York, and he booked a train ticket to go see him that weekend.

 

Steve's place is pretty much exactly how Sam had imagined it. It's small and neat and has a sort of understated old-fashioned kind of decoration.

 

The one thing that Sam had not been expecting was the dog. Steve had mentioned that he had gotten a dog and had started 'letting him tag along everywhere” since he apparently just “I dunno, I like not being alone in a crowd?”. Sam had been picturing a lab, or maybe a collie, one of those black and white sheep dog types.

 

He had not been expected the low “mountains crumble at my roar” bark he heard when he knocked on the door, or the mountain of fur that met his eye when Steve stepped aside to let him in.

 

“Steve. That is not a dog that is a bear.”

 

Steve did that bashfully neck rubbing thing he sometimes did.

 

“Umm...yeah about the dog thing?” he said bashfully.

 

Sam stared at Steve braced for unimaginable horrors. “What, man, don't leave me hanging-”

 

“Apparently that is a wolf. Not a dog”

 

Sam stared blankly at Steve for a second then looked at the wolf. Then he had to sit down. “That's not even funny.” He rasped.

 

Steve shrugged. “Tony did a DNA scan on him- and congratulations! It's a wolf!.” He fake cheered.

 

“Do I even want to know why Tony Stark DNA testing your pets?”

 

 Steve brushed him off. “Nah. Tony's just obsessed with 'im. Keeps trying to dog-nap him.”.

 

Sam couldn't stop staring at the wolf. “Dude, this is a new tier of weirdness. Even for you.”

 

“Aliens invaded NEW YORK and my pet wolf is what you can't deal with?!” Steve whined.

 

“That's different. This is just- you're a defrosted supersoldier with a tame wolf who follows you everywhere. That's some Poetic Edda level badass, man.”

 

Steve slumped down onto the couch next to Sam. He smiled, not the real one that Sam had seen that day they'd met jogging, but the other one- from the VA centre when he said he didn't know what made him happy. "Yeah I guess." he murmured in the general direction of the ceiling.

 

Steve looked at his wolf, who was smushed up into the corner staring at Sam. He frowned. “That's weird. He usually likes when people come over. He's always snuggling up to Nat....”

Steve wiggled his fingers to beckon the dog over. “C'mon say hello to Sam!” The dog did not budge. “C'mon!” Steve called.

 

The dog inched forward and thne lay down on the floor, Since the apartment was tiny and he was huge, this meant that he was still (more or less) in the corner while at the same time nearly resting his head on Steve's foot.

 

Steve seemed troubled by this reaction. “Sorry, maybe he'll warm up to you once he gets to know you.” he wondered.

 

“Hey, no problem. I'm not the wolf whisperer that you apparently are. I didn't know wolves could get that big!” Sam reassured him.

 

Steve nodded and then smiled again (the happy one this time). “Yeah, apparently in cattle coutry people have shot wolves that weigh up to 200lbs. That's about what that rascal clocks in at. It all depends on genetics and how well they're fed.”

 

Sam whistled. “Christ man, you just have to take everything to the extreme. Jogging. Patriotism. Pet Ownership. Breakfast.”

 

Steve laughed, and Sam mentally patted himself on the back. Steve didn't laugh too often.

 

“Soooo, not that I don't love sitting in your crappy apartment but, we are going to go up to the Avengers tower right?” Sam asked.

 

Steve chuckled, and stood up. He grabbed a leash and collar that were hanging on a hook next to the door. “Sure, but let's get food first.”

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

 

“Oh,” Steve said, pausing at the door. “Tony might even put us all up for a few nights if you'd rather stay there than here.”

 

Sam thought about it. “We'll see. I'm not sure how long I gonna stay.”

 

Steve jerked his head at the wolf. “C'mon.” He held up the leash. “Going to go see Tony!”

 

The wolf just huffed and adjusted it's position. Steve shrugged and put the leash back on the hook, before smiling back at Sam (the sad one). “I'll just leave him. He seems off today for some reason. And I can't take him on the subway- You probably aren't up for walking into Manhattan anyway.”

 

Sam shrugged. “S'like I said: I do what you do, only slower.”

 

Steve smiled again at that (the happy one).

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's wondering what wolf!Bucky looks like I picture it as something like this:
> 
> http://i.imgur.com/kDtpG.jpg (that's a dog not a wolf btw but about that size maybe a bit bigger)
> 
> http://media.mnn.com/user/130155/rocco.jpg (this is maybe a bit on the big side but Bucky has a longer fuller coat like that, so between this size and the one above I'd say but not this colouring or breed)
> 
> http://www.wildnatureimages.com/A%20to%20C3000/BLACK_WOLF_STANDING..JPG (this is the colouring I picture for him, this one's actually a wolf)
> 
> If anyone's wondering why Bucky is so big as a wolf it's because he's the same size as a wolf as he is as a man, and he's a fair sized guy. So, when he transforms that makes him a very large wolf. Apparently wolves have been known to get to be that size (nature is so cool), but I decided not to link any of those pictures since they're mostly of the animals after they've been shot and I figured that would be upsetting for some people.


	5. The Pieces Fit Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky remembers his old life, Sam notices a few things, and Tony finally gets some answers to his questions.

Bucky enjoyed the time by himself, which took him by surprise. He hadn't every really liked being alone, and it was actually really hard to try and remember the last time he'd spent time alone which wasn't entirely necessary because of it being right before or right after or during the three days and nights of his full moon transformations (or lost in the dark pit of 70 missing years).

 

Sam Wilson's sudden appearance had jolted him out of his calm canine haze, and he paced around the apartment, drank some water, paced some more, ate his dinner (dry food, Steve usually served the canned stuff but if he was gone for a while he left out the dry. Steve had only started feeding Bucky dog food after a couple weeks experimentation with human food had proved disastrous for Bucky's wolf digestive system, besides, Bucky could hardly taste anything in this body, so it's not like it really mattered) and paced some more.

 

Bucky flopped down onto the blanket and waited for them to come back. It was the first time since he'd come to find Steve all those months ago that he found himself wishing for his human skin. These days he mostly thought of it as an inconvenience- so weak, so vulnerable, not to mention that all the thoughts and feelings he could numb down in this form just HURT so much when he wore his first skin.

 

But, he wanted to talk to Sam. He wanted to thank Sam, because Sam had saved him and brought him the book he asked for. Sam was the good people in the world that Steve (his Steve, the old one who was bird-boned and violent) had always insisted filled the world. It was the first time that Bucky had found one. Wait, no the second, the first time had been Steve, and Bucky hadn't even known good people existed before he'd met Steve.

 

He shivered just thinking about the time before Steve. The pit-men and the terrible full moons when he'd get thrown into the pit with the rats before the change and stood there naked and crying while the crowd cheered and the rates bit his toes.

 

He sighed and resettled himself trying to drive his thoughts away from the bad times and back to the good:

 

_Steve stepping out of his apartment proudly bearing a piece of bread smeared with Molasses that he'd presented to Bucky with a bow and flourish. Bucky had been suspicious of it at first, but after the first bite he'd tried to cram the whole thing in his mouth and had closed his eyes to feel the sweetness. He'd never had molasses before._

 

He'd always wondered why him. The Depression hadn't hit yet when they met but Steve and Sarah Rogers had never had much extra to go around, and Bucky had been just another nameless dirty street kid. There'd been a fair few around even in those days. He can't even remember if Bucky had been his name before he met Steve or whether that had been a nickname Steve had come up with.

 

He must have dozed off thinking of Sarah Rogers' sweet smile and the way she'd sometimes run her fingers gently through his hair.

 

He's on the street in his old neighbourhood, and Steve is running ahead of him, just a little kid made of determination and bones. Bucky starts running after him and suddenly his gait is wrong. This isn't the hard pounding sprint of a boy, but the long loping jumps of a wolf.

 

He's hunting Steve. He wants to wake up, he needs to wake up but he can't and he runs Steve down and his jaws close around the back of Steve's neck. He can taste the blood. And then he's not on the street. He's in the apartment where he killed a man but it's not a stranger on the floor and strewn in pieces around the room. It's Steve. Little Steve who was kind.

 

He's a man again and he can still taste the blood.

He can still taste _Steve'_ s _blood_ in his mouth.

 

He woke to the sound of his own whimpering, and was surprised to see Sam leaning up to look at him over the armrest of the sofa. He must have come in while Bucky was asleep.

 

Sam looked worried.

 

Bucky whimpered again. This time because the ache in his bones was in his skin now. It felt like his bones don't fit right underneath it and were bruising him from the inside. He wondered if his body had tried to shift back to human while he was asleep. If it had that was worrying, and hadn't ever happened before.

 

He staggered upright and lumbered over towards Sam, resting his head on the sofa next to his warm body.

 

Sam immediately reached out and wrapped his arms around Bucky's head. It felt nice. It felt safe. It felt like the nights when it was raining and he'd knock on the Rogers' door and Sarah would let him in and give him a blanket and a hug before sending him to bunk down with Steve.

 

In for a penny in for a pound, Bucky thought as he heaved his upper body into Sam's lap- letting his forepaws, chest and head rest on his lap. 

 

Sam lay back down without letting go of Bucky and the patted the space next to his body on the couch.

 

Bucky didn't usually let the lines blur for when he was a wolf and when he was a man. Men sat on sofa's and chairs, they wore clothing, and did not eat raw steaks. Wolves prowled the night, and hunted rabbits, and slept on the ground or the floor, or maybe a blanket laid out on the floor.

 

But, the dream taste of Steve's blood was still on his tongue and he couldn't stop shaking, so Bucky heaved himself up onto the couch cushions and he'd crawled into bed with Steve last month so, technically the rule was long broken anyway, right?

 

It didn't matter, since he cautiously climbed up anyway. It was a tight fit and he had to snuggle up to Sam just to stay on the couch but it was... it was nice. To be pressed up close to a human body.

 

Or it would have been if it didn't feel even more like his skin didn't fit and his bones were trying tear through it from within. He tried to suppress another whimper but it slipped out. He felt Sam's hand come up and run gently up and down his ear. It felt good.

 

Bucky was glad that Sam had come to town. He had a sneaking feeling that come the third day of the next full moon he'd be wearing his human skin whether he wanted to or not.

 

 --------------

 

Sam was surprised when they headed up to the tower again the next day.

 

“I can't bring him to the gallery.” Steve explained, nodding his head towards the wolf who was sulking at the end of his leash. “And I don't like leaving him alone for too long.”

 

They walked into downtown Manhattan as promised, a feat which took them most of the morning at Sam's pace and would probably take less than an hour at Steve's.

 

Sam couldn't help watching the way that Steve was with the wolf. It was weird.

 

Steve had talked a lot about the dog whenever Sam had called him up over the last few months. He'd talked about him showing up in the neighbourhood and the decision to take him in. He'd worried at length about keeping him in the city and whether it was rude to show up at movie night with your pet. He'd asked Sam about the healthiest dog food and leash laws.

 

But, Steve didn't seem to pet the wolf. The wolf trailed behind him so that his nose was always a couple inches from touching the back of Steve's leg, but they hardly touched.

 

Steve talked to the wolf though, about as much as he would talk to a person, (which was not a lot), a bit less than how much he seemed to talk to Romanov or to Sam himself but still. And he talked to the wolf like it could understand.

 

For instance when they finally arrived at the Tower, after they got into the elevator Steve looked down at the wolf and said: “I know Tony's been giving you a rough time. But try and cut him as much slack as you can and once you can't cut him any more run off and try and find Nat or Pepper or Bruce to hide behind. They're pretty ace at Tony-wrangling by this point.”

 

The wolf let out a huff of air.

 

Steve smiled (the real one) and reached down to unclip the collar from around the wolf's neck.

 

The elevator doors dinged open.

 

Tony was standing there with an expression that Sam felt was slightly disconcerting. The wolf immediately made a break past him leaping like his life depended on it and then scrambling as his claws slipped on the marble floor.  


Tony dashed after him. “I just want to be friends!” he yelled as the wolf made a flying leap over the couch.

 

“You crazy kids have fun!” Steve yelled after them as he tossed the leash and collar in the general direction of...what looked like a robot?  


Sam momentarily considered suggesting that they stay here and watch the show instead of heading over to the Met but reconsidered it as the wolf took a corner too fast and slid into the plate glass window with a loud thump.

 

Best to steer clear of what was clearly an imminent disaster zone.

 

\---------

 

After abandoning the chase for about an hour and the leaving a truly amazing steak out on the floor, Tony was finally able to lure the wolf out of hiding.

 

He sat down in front of the clearly affronted creature as if tore into the bloody piece of meat.

 

Tony smiled at him. “I really think I may have come on a bit to strong here. Ask anyone- It's a major character flaw of mine, made worse in this situation by the fact that you have tongue but cannot tell be to shut the hell up and back the fuck off."

 

The dog paused and stared at him for a minute before continuing.

 

“It's just hard to know how to treat someone who's a human in a wolf's body.”

 

The wolf tore another bite off with particular viciousness and let out a low almost sub-audible growl.

 

Tony waved a finger at him “Do not give me that! Based on my tests that is exactly what you are. Let's use the one tap for yes, two taps for no system, why don't we? I'm pretty sure that you can understand every word I'm saying right now can't you? There's another really good steak in it for you and I'll put the TV on the PBS Masterpieces Channel, which I know you like if you answer my questions.”

 

The wolf sulked but then whapped his tail against the floor a single time. _yes._

 

Tony ran his fingers through his hair. Progress at last. Bribery so rarely failed.

 

“Are you stuck as a wolf?”

 

Two taps. _n_ _o._

 

“Why- no you can't answer that with the current system...” Tony trailed off, then got up, set the machine to making a cappuccino and stared at the dog for a second.

 

“Did you choose to live with Steve?”

 

Another single tap. _yes_

 

“I don't mean, did he find you and take you home and you just didn't bother leaving I mean, did you seek him out for some reason or did you know him before or-”

 

Another single slap. _yes_

 

“Yes to what question?”

 

The dog gave him a look which very clearly translated to 'You're being stupid I can't talk silly”

 

“Right, sorry.” Tony apologized, he let out a deep breath. “Okay, starting simple: do you like to be petted?”

 

A single tap. _yes_

 

“Okay” Tony grinned and reached out to start rubbing the puppy's ears. “Did you like the tests I ran on you?”

 

Two taps this time. _n_ _o_. This one was accompanied by a particularly scathing look.

 

“Do you want to keep living with Steve?”

 

One tap. _yes_

 

“Are you alright?”

 

The dog tilted his head to one side. Tony wanted to scream but got up and fetched his cappuccino instead. He sat down in front of the dog and took a sip.

 

“You need a name don't you?” He sighed, not sure how to move forward, not sure what he could do to help.

 

There's two taps. _no_

 

“What do you mean, No? Everybody needs a name!”

 

There a single tap. _yes_

 

Tony runs that through his head. No the dog didn't need a name, yes everybody needed one.

 

Tony hesitantly asked. “Do you already have a name?”

 

This earned him another 'goosh you're stupid' looks from the wolf. It was truly humbling to be judged so hard by a canine.

 

“Of course you have a name, from the look of that footage you're what 27?” Tony asked

 

The wolf honest to god shrugged.

 

“You don't know how old you are?”

 

Two taps. _no_

 

“No, you don't know how old you are?”

 

A single tap. _yes_

 

“Okay.”

 

Tony frowned at the dog. There was something. Something big and obvious he was missing. He could feel the shape of it in his mind but for the life of him couldn't work out what it was.

 

Suddenly he had the edge of it and he knew what questions he had to ask.

 

“You're about the same age as Steve aren't you?”

 

A single tap. _yes_

 

“Did...he know you as a person before you started living with him as a wolf?”

 

The wolf stared at Tony for a long long minute before ducking his head and tapping the floor with his paw -once. _yes_

 

Suddenly Tony had it. He leapt to his feet threw his coffee cup in the general direction of the sink and skidded towards the elevator, his sock feel sliding on the marble. The dog followed after him, apparently curious as to what had gotten into him.

 

Tony held the doors for him, and it was so definitely worth it to see the bemused expression on his huge doggy face.

 

Tony reached down rubbing the wolf's face between his hands. “I'd dog-nap you even now I know you're human!” he exclaimed. “Though I suppose technically that would be straight and up kidnapping, not dognapping.” He paused and tried to bring the specific laws to mind. “I think we're in a legal gray-zone here.”

 

The doors opened to Tony's private lab. He dove under the bench and started rifling through various discarded papers and half finished books and scientific journals.

 

There's a slightly muffled but nonetheless triumphant “AHA!” as he scrambled out (just missing crackling his head against the edge of the bench as he straightened up) brandishing a fat hardcover book with a red white and blue cover.

 

Steve's pet wolf is sitting staring at him with apprehensive curiosity.

 

Tony started frantically flipping through the book until he stopped on a particular page near the beginning with another triumphant shout.

 

“Scan this JARVIS and put it up on the holoscreen!”

 

There's a quick blue light and then the image fills the room. It's a slightly grainy old photo of Steve (pre-serum) sitting in a booth in an old bar with a smiling, handsome dark haired man. The table is covered with mostly empty glasses and they both look maybe just a little drunk. The taller dark haired man has an arm slung over Steve's thin shoulders.

 

“JARVIS bring up a still from the security footage of our friend here, one where there's a full face shot.”

 

“Of course, sir”

 

Overlaid over the black and white is the frame of the video and the dingy colours of the footage of the man the wolf had turned into.

 

“Zoom in on the face crop the rest.”

 

Jarvis obliged.

 

“Put it up next to the scan from the book.”

 

The smaller window moved up so it was right next to the face of the man in the photo. At the same scale and side by side there's not a shred of doubt-

 

Tony pointed to the man in the older photograph. “That's you isn't it?!”

 

The wolf whimpered and hung his head, trying to slink back towards the door.

 

“No! Don't you dare! Answer me! God damn it!” Tony yelled.

 

Reluctantly the dog trotted back towards Tony. He sat down again and gave a very timid single tap with one of front paws. _yes_

 

Tony felt like the stomach was full of ice.

 

He sat down on the floor next to the do- to Bucky.

 

“He knew you.” he choked out in shock. “You're his friend. He grew up with you, how is this...? How are you here?”

 

Bucky shrugged.

 

Tony reached out and rubbed at the – at Bucky's furry face. “How could he?! How could he do this?!” The ice was thawing and it was being replaced by rage.

 

Bucky whimpered at Tony's raised voice and that brought him up short. He hugged the wolf.

 

“Hey, wanna hear what they have to say about you? In the book? I haven't actually read most of it because over adulating praise of Steve Rogers is just, not my scene you know? I had that as a bedtime story every night- it gets old. I just got this one since i thought they might be a bit more daring since it was published after he turned out not to be dead and it's easier to be critical of the living for some reason? Sort of the opposite of “the evil that men do lives on after them” type thing. But if anything they were worse, worse than the lionising of the fallen hero, and that stuff was pretty bad.” He asked.

 

Tony took in the Bucky's expression.

 

“Right. You really don't care about that. Okay, gather round children! It's story time!”

 

He cleared his throat theatrically and began reading:

 

“That Steve Rogers lived long enough to become Captain America is often credited to his childhood friend known to historians only as 'Bucky', a local Brooklyn tough who apparently took a liking to the incorrigible little punk and began acting as Steve's unofficial bodyguard from before they left elementary school. Little is known about Bucky, indeed the only information we have on him comes from interviews done with Steve's neighbours.

 

What is certain is that despite his rough beginnings by early adulthood Bucky had become an accepted member of Steve's tight-knit community. After Sarah Rogers' death Bucky moved in with Steve in an attempt to help cover living expense and according to one neighbour “to make sure there'd be someone to catch some of the punches aimed at the kid, not to mention hit him on the back when he accidentally stopped breathing”.

 

Bucky and Steve roomed together from Sarah Rogers' death in 1939 until Steve's recruitment into Project Rebirth in 1941.

 

The ultimate fate of Bucky is unclear, certainly no journalist or historian has ever managed to track him down or find any record of where he went after his friend's enlistment and subsequent transformation. The assumption of most biographers is that Bucky died young, of cause unknown, since he disappeared from the neighbourhood not long after Steve's transformation became complete. Given the lack of enlistment information or official record of his death it is impossible to know for certain.' And then on the facing page there's that picture I showed you of you and Steve at the bar with the caption “Steve Rogers and his childhood friend 'Bucky' on St. Patrick's day 1941... ”

 

Tony sighed, looked down at Bucky and shook his head. “I just don't understand how he could do this to you.”

 

He scratched Bucky under the chin in the way he knew he liked. “Deal be damned, I'm telling the others.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Look at me updating a timely manner, don't get too used to it I'm rather unreliable! 
> 
> Oooohh! Cliffhanger, eh? 
> 
> Exciting things happening! Or at least I hope you guys are finding them exciting?
> 
> Also, if you're wondering why I'm alternating between dog and wolf when talking about Bucky, that's meant to reflect that the character doing the thinking does occasionally forget that Bucky's a wolf and just thinks of him as a dog.
> 
> Hope you all like the chapter! Please comment if you do, Feedback of any kind makes me very happy!


	6. Steve Speaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve rants to Sam, yells at Tony and talks to Natasha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit 2/12/2016: Hi guys! I've gotten a lot of comments from people unhappy with how this fic portrays Steve/Steve and Bucky's relationship, and there's not really anything I can say in response because overall I have to admit that of all the works I have on this site this is probably the one I'm least happy with and which really fails to convey what I was trying to convey. 
> 
> With that in mind I've decided to remove it from the site. I've been considering doing so for a while, but this is one of my more popular fics, so I'm giving those who love it some pretty advance notice. So! If you want to download or save this fic elsewhere you have a month to do so. I will be deleting this sometime in January.

Sam had not expected this when they swung by the Avengers tower to pick up the wolf (brief interrogation of Steve on the subject had revealed that he _still_ had not given him a name).

 

Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff and Pepper Potts were all sitting on the couch waiting for them (the wolf was on the floor seemingly watching an adaptation of Jane Austen's Persuasion very intently).

 

The holoscreen behind them was lit up with a picture that Sam instantly recognized as being of a young pres-serum Steve, and someone who looked an awful lot like...Bucky? There was another smaller close-up of the possible-Bucky apparently taken from a video-still, which was hovering next to the older photograph.

 

“You have got some explaining to do mister!” Tony Stark declared dramatically. There were hand gestures involved. Sam took a moment to marvel that the man really was exactly how he seemed on television.

 

Steve blinked, looked at the pictures, and then looked at the wolf who nervously skittered towards him on the slick marble floor.

 

“It's none of you business Tony.” Steve hissed. “Where did you get that picture?”

 

Tony tossed a book at Steve, which he snatched out of the air.

 

“Start talking buddy.” Tony demanded.

 

Steve ignored him in favour of flipping through the book.

 

Natasha started speaking “Look, no one” she glared at Tony. “Is casting any blame until we know what's going on but we can't know until-” She trailed off.

 

Steve was staring at the book like he was going to start crying.

 

“Guys, I told you this wasn't a good idea.” Bruce Banner muttered.

 

“Steve, you okay man?” Sam asked tentatively.

 

“How did you figure it out?” Steve asked Tony very quietly. Dangerous quiet.

 

“I got Buck here to answer some questions. He-” but Tony doesn't get a chance to finish, because Steve cut him off pretty effectively by grabbing Sam by the collar and hauling him back into the elevator.

 

The wolf whimpered and tried to run after them but Steve jabbed the 'close doors' button immediately and viciously so that they closed in the poor animal's face.

 

“Okay, man what was that?” Sam asked, stunned and confused.

 

Steve leaned against the wall of the elevator, clutching the book like a lifeline and screwing his eyes shut.

 

“You know that wolf of mine?”

 

“yeah...”

 

“Not so much a wolf.”

 

“If it's not a wolf than what the hell is it?”

 

“Him.” Steve answered shoving the book at Sam before turning away to lean against the wall.

 

Sam stared at the page it was open to- the same picture that Tony had had up in the lobby.

 

“Wha-”

 

“That stupid, selfish-” Steve puctuated each insult by pounding his fist against the way “Lying, m-murdering b-bastard”

 

Sam stood frozen and shellshocked as Captain fucking America started crying in the elevator.

 

“Man, you need to give me a little more 'cause I do _not_ know what is happening here.”

 

Steve gently tapped his fist against the wall one more time before he swallowed back his sobs, wiped his eyes, straightened up, then turned and held out his hand to take the book back. Sam handed it back warily.

 

Steve took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair. When he started speaking he sounded as detached and professional as he had that morning when he'd showed up at Sam's door and explained over breakfast how a Nazi splinter group had infiltrated an international intelligence agency to the highest levels.

 

“I met Bucky when I was about eight. I have no idea how old he was, and neither did he. He was a street kid, an orphan. He came home and Mum and I did what we could for him. He never really moved in until after she died but it was Mum that raised and fed and clothed him. He always came and went and tried to chip in though...” Steve sighed like his heart was breaking. “I thought I knew everthing about him. He was my best friend. He was away on one of his jaunts when Erskine recruited me, I was actually relieved... I mean, he'd always thought I was an idiot for wanting to join up. I wrote him this long letter with all the information and who to call and-”

 

He scrubbed at his face. “-and the next time I saw him he was bursting into Dr. Erskine's labratory and he didn't look fully human. The next thing I knew he'd disemboweled the doctor and had fully transformed into...welll, the wolf you saw upstairs. The SSR took him into custody after that, and I didn't see him again until.... he showed up at my door like that after leaving me a couple of cryptic notes.”

 

Steve sighed again, and leaned back against the elevator doors just as they opened onto the lobby. He headed for the exit like a man on a mission, Sam had to hurry to keep up.

 

Steve was starting to sound considerably less than calm. “No explanation, no chance to _talk,_ nothing. Just some goddamn page from Shakespeare, as if I'm supposed to accept everything just cause he quoted the Bard at me and then some cryptic warning about the full moon.”

 

They were outside now, Steve suddenly rounded on Sam and hissed: “I had to wrestle 200lbs of berserk wolf into the closet, and then make sure he stayed in there. Do you know how hard that is?! There've been search and destroy missions I've done that were a _hell_ of a lot easier!”

 

Steve turned on his heel again, getting more distressed by the minute. “Then _months_ go by, and I think maybe I'm nuts ya know? Maybe it's just a fucking _dog_ who really hates the moon and I'm deluding myself into thinking it's my friend. AND THEN!!” Steve was shouting now. “AND THEN! I get home and oh, it's _definitely_ Bucky, because the fucking bastard's sitting stark naked on my couch eating YOGURT!!!”

 

Sam had never heard Steve swear before but he decided not to comment on it. Clearly this was something he felt he needed to get off his chest.

 

“So, for a second- just a spit second I think he's finally gonna _talk_ to me, tell me what's going on, that I'm finally going to-” Steve's voice broke and he kicked at the ground as he walked. “Doesn't matter what I thought.” he finally said. “He doesn't make a sound, doesn't say a word, just looks at me like I'm the devil himself and dives into his closet and barricaded the door. I asked him to come out, I _begged_ him to just say _something_ , to talk to me, but he wouldn't. I didn't know if he could. Next day he's a wolf again. I think maybe it's a fluke, I try and talk to him, try and get some answers...and NOTHING. I figure maybe he can't talk, or if he can maybe he just wants to be where he is, be left alone?”

 

Steve shrugged and stared off into the distance. Suddenly he teared up again and started viciously wiping at his eyes, his face a mask of hurt and frustration. “But I guess I was wrong. He's talking to TONY STARK of all people.”

 

They'd made it just about to the Brooklyn Bridge by this point and Sam was getting a bit winded as he tried to keep up with Steve.

 

“I used to think,” Steve declared solemnly “That even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.” His shoulders hunched and Sam wondered if he'd started crying again. “But I guess I never had him at all, just some...act he put on.”

 

“Man, you've got a right to be upset and... I dunno messed up about all this, but that? That isn't fair.” Sam murmured to Steve, where he hunched over the railing staring at the water.

 

“Killing Dr. Erskine wasn't fair.”

 

Sam leaned on the railing next to him and stared out at the bay. “He ever get a chance to tell you why?”

 

“He claimed it was because Erskine was hurting me.”

 

Sam looked over at Steve. “Was he?”

 

Steve shrugged. “The procedure hurt. Like hell, thought for sure I was gonna die for a minute or two. And then it seemed like I could breathe for the first time. That's fair exchange I'd say. And I told Bucky, I told him in the letter that the number he could call to talk to me and the risks that were involved.” He pushed back from the railing. “Being able to do what I can do? Was worth the price.”

 

Sam followed him back to the apartment in silence.

 

“I wish I could stay man, but you know I've got a train to catch back to DC.” Sam said once they'd gotten in the front door.

 

“Yeah, I know.” Steve mumbled.

 

Steve helped Sam gather his belongings in silence. They rode the subway down to the station.

 

“Thing is,” Steve said as they stepped off the subway. “even if Erskine  _was_ hurting me, it still wouldn't have been right for Bucky to kill him like that.”

 

Sam hefted his duffle over his shoulder. “Yeah, man.” He glanced at his watch, he had a bit of time before his train went.

 

“Look, you got a counsellor, or a shrink or something?” he asked.

 

Steve smiled wryly and shook his head.

 

Sam nodded. “Well, get one, man. This is _crazy_ , and if you keep on the way your going you're going to drive _yourself_ crazy. I don't know Bucky, I don't know why he did what he did or why he's doing what he's doing. I do know you and I get that you did what you did 'cause you thought it was what he wanted and you were trying to look out for your friend, even if you're mad as hell at him, but it looks like he's got a whole tower full of people looking after him right now. I want you to promise you'll do your best to look after yourself for a little while.”

 

Steve blinked slowly.

 

“Now, you want my advice on Bucky?” Sam continued.

 

Steve nodded hesitantly.

 

“You did your best by him and he's your friend and I think you're right, you need to talk to him. I'd say he owes you one hell of an explanation, and I think you owe it to him to listen to it but after that, even if he were your long lost twin brother, you wouldn't owe him _jack shit_.”

 

Steve smiled a tiny little bit at that.

 

Sam reached out and hugged Steve. “And don't let that billionaire moron in the tower tell you any different. I know you're not okay Steve, so call me yeah? And.... if Bucky needs someone to talk to I'm willing to listen.”

 

“Thanks Sam.” Steve replied.

 

Sam clapped Steve on the shoulder one last time. “Goodbye, take care of yourself man.”

 

Steve smiled that sad smile again. “I'll try. I'm not too good at it though.”

 

Sam laughed. “Yeah, I've noticed.” With that and a wave he turned and headed towards his platform.

 

Once on the train it was all he could do to keep his hands from shaking. This was some heavy shit, and way _way_ above his pay-grade. He leaned his head against the window and tried to figure out why a man would be willing to give up so much- His voice, his hands, his face- and live in a form that wasn't his. Sam hoped like hell he wasn't doing it for Steve, or because of Steve, cause that was way to much to put on one person's shoulders. Even Captain America.

 

 _Bucky_.

 

Jesus Christ man, what happened to you? And what have you _done_?

 

\----------------

 

The presumed-Bucky had collapsed in a whining heap by the elevator after Steve had disappeared from view. Natasha sighed and eyed Tony. “You know when you said we were going to talk about this with Steve I thought you had a better plan.”

 

Tony opened and closed his mouth a few times. “I grant you this could have been handled better.”

 

“I'd say that's the understatement of the year.” Bruce mumbled.

 

Tony faked a gasp, threw a hand to his chest and whirled to point at Bruce. “Et tu Bruce!” he cried.

 

“Don't blame Bruce. You sprung this on the man like you were hoping to get on that 'Intervention' reality TV show.” Pepper sniped, standing gracefully and sauntering over to the bar.

 

“Yeah,” Natasha agreed. “And now not only do we NOT have an explanation, we also have hurt and alienated Steve. Plus I think you broke the dog.”

 

She jerked her head toward Bucky who had collapsed in a puddle by the elevator doors.

 

Bucky sighed and whined as he lay on the floor.

 

Bruce ambled over and crouched down near him running a knuckle along the line of his head and snout.

 

“Hey Bucky!” Natasha called from where she was curled on the couch. “Can you turn back anytime you want to?”

 

There's a long pause and then his tail whaps against the floor twice. _no_.

 

Natasha frowned and then asked. “Can you only change during the full moon?”

 

One tap. _Yes._

 

She shrugged and raised an eyebrow at Tony as if to say: _see problem solved, that wasn't too hard_.

 

\-------------

Tony was sitting on his workshop floor with Bucky's large wolfy-head in his lap when the phone rings. Bucky having been bodily transplanted into the workshop when it became clear he was not going to be moving under his own power for a while.

 

So, Tony was sitting on the floor with Bucky tinkering with a repulsor and allowing the wolf-man some much needed human contact as he watched some sort of Shakespeare drama very intently.

 

“Stark.” a very familiar voice said icily as JARVIS patched him through.

 

Tony nearly dropped the repulsor.

 

“I've calmed down enough to answer your questions now if you like.” Steve continued.

 

“uh....are you coming back up to the tower?”

 

“No, I just figured. That if there was anything, you know, urgent that you needed to know I should-”

 

“Are you coming back for your dog?” Tony cut in quickly.

 

There's a long pause and Tony can feel Bucky tense against his thigh.

 

Finally Steve answered. “Well, you're the dog whisperer apparently, you ask him where he wants to live and we'll go from there.”

 

Tony looked down at the dog who was staring up at him imploringly. “Back to Steve?” Tony asked. The dog reacted so strongly it was like he was trying to hit the floor with his entire body. Once for yes.

 

“Yeah, I'd say he wants to go back to Brooklyn though why he would want that when my tower offers all of the amenities is a mystery to--”

 

“Well, what sort of explanation are you looking for Tony?” Steve asked, his voice still a bit icy. “Because I don't know anymore than you do.”

 

“Well, and I'm just thinking out loud here, but why your childhood _best friend_ is living as your _dog_ would be a good place to start...”

 

Steve sighed loudly. “I don't _know_. I found out about the wolf thing right before I enlisted. He killed Dr. Erskine for god knows what reason and then turned into a wolf and then turned back into a man and then back into a wolf. The SSR took him into custody and that was the last I saw of him until he left me a couple cryptic notes and showed up at my door.”

 

“As a man or as a-”

 

“As a wolf, Tony! He showed up as a WOLF! Okay? Is that enough of an explanation for you?”

 

“And he's never turned back?”

 

“Once, that I know of. I'm pretty sure I wasn't meant to find out about that so he's probably done it whenever he thinks I'll be out.”

 

“Why have you- I mean, he's your _friend_ how could you have just accepted- how could you have just treated him like a _dog_?!”

 

“Look, I did what I could for him! It may not have been enough but I didn't know _what_ to do. He didn't want to talk to me, or eat human food or lie on the furniture even, okay? So, I'd put on the shows I knew he liked and I took him on runs, because that was all I could do. So, you think you can fix him, shove him back into something that's human? _Go ahead_. I'm done. I'll look after him but, I'm not-”

 

Steve cut himself off and Tony had the uncomfortable feeling that he had covered the receiver to cry or something.

 

Bucky seemed to be attempting to become one with the floor.

 

“What else was there to do Tony? Huh? _What was there to do_?” Steve demanded to know.

 

“You could have told us." Tony murmured, trying to sound calm and reasonable.

  
“Yeah, and how's it working out now? Does Bucky seem more or less miserable?” Steve bit out peevishly.

 

This was, Tony thought, a pretty unfair question, since at the moment Bucky seemed to be contorted with grief and/or guiltand was sort of spasming around on the floor like a crazy thing. Not to mention that the misery Bucky was experiencing was entirely the result of Steve's actions in the first place.

 

“He's fine.” Tony snapped.

 

“Uh huh." Steve did not sound convinced.  "Look, I'll come get him tomorrow if you want okay?”

 

“Fine. But, don't think we're finished discussing this young man, because we are not!” Tony said in an imitation of a nagging sitcom mom.

 

Steve just hung up on him.

 

\------------------

 

Natasha had decided pretty early on that she needed to go to Brooklyn to see Steve. Clearly, he'd been doing far worse since the fall of HYDRA (and thus SHIELD) than she'd thought. It felt like she'd always been the only one to see through the act, and to bring out the real Steve, the smart-mouthed wild man, not the cardboard cut-out of a war-hero he sometimes liked to pretend to be.

 

She's visited him in Brooklyn a few times since Yashenka came to stay, she had liked the dog but had thought that maybe he wasn't as good for Steve as the other's seemed to assume.

 

Because Steve had been... sad ever since that dog had shown up. Not that he hadn't been before just, perhaps, that he had worn it better then. He had had work to distract him, and if there was one thing she knew about Steve it was that he was the sort of man for whom idleness was poison. He had to keep moving or his demons would catch up with him.

 

Maybe what was happening now was just him slowing down long enough for them to finally get him.

 

But, it _wasn't_. Something about the dog had _made_ him sad. Old grief. Natasha was familiar with it even if it wasn't something she could let herself feel.

 

What Tony had showed her and told her about Steve's explanation cleared that little mystery up at least. An old friend who should have been dead but wasn't? An old friend who maybe Steve had _wanted_ dead, or at least would have preferred be dead to showing up unannounced in the skin of an animal?

It certainly sounded like a recipe to reopen old wounds.

 

She knocked on his door. He opened it and then leaned against the frame, arms and legs crossed.

 

“Steve.” She said.

 

He quirked his lips. “Natasha.” he replied.

 

He jerked his head and moved away from the door. She followed. “Want some tea or somethin'?” he asked.

 

“Coffee.” She answered. He nodded and moved around the little galley kitchen that took up one corner of the dinning/living room. It really was a small place, though it was in a nice neighbourhood so it still probably cost an arm and a leg.

 

He handed her the coffee and they both sat down on his couch.

 

She took a tentative sip and smiled. Steve made the _best_  bad coffee of anyone she knew.

 

“So why'd you do it?” she asked, without preamble. One of the few traits that she knew Steve had always liked about her was her habit of being as blunt and upfront as any situation allowed, so she doesn't mince her words or tread lightly.

 

“He needed -”

 

“No, I'm asking you why _you_ said yes. It's been making you miserable, having him here." Steve opened his mouth to argue but Natasha poked him in the arm.  "Don't deny it.” she teased.

 

He sighed heavily. “He needed somewhere Nat. I couldn't turn him away.”

 

She side-eyed him and he blushed.

 

“He killed your friend.” It was a statement. She'd been one of the few people to ever see the real files about what happened the day of Project Rebirth. Seeing Tony's footage had just slotted a few of the final puzzle pieces into place.

 

Steve gave her a look. “I don't think you're in a position to be casting judgements on murderers Nat.” Ah, and there's the barbs she's been looking for. Steve's surprisingly good at knowing the places to hit where it will hurt.

 

She winced. “I _meant_ , that he killed someone you care about and his being around has made things worse for you hasn't it? No one could blame you for trying to find someone else to look after him.”

 

Steve gave her an ironic look. “ _He_ could.”

 

“Well, _he_ is not _my_ friend. I couldn't care less what _he_ thinks.”

 

“Well,” said Steve. “ _I_ do care what _he_ thinks.” He smiled at Nat and patted her knee. “I'm glad you came over. It's nice to have a friend around.”

 

“You have had a friend around for nearly a year.” she quipped.

 

“It's been six months Nat.” he replied.

 

“It's been eight.” she countered.

 

“Whatever. I meant a friend who isn't a constant 200lb silent accusation.”

 

There was a pause as they both drank their terrible coffee.

 

Nat paused. “What exactly do you think you owe Bucky Barnes? Huh? The man was your friend before the war, but why do you-”

 

“I let them take him.” Steve interrupted her. “They tortured him and experimented on him, and they were able to do that because I didn't stop them when they came for him.”

 

“After he killed Erskine you mean?”

 

“Yeah, we all got out of there and locked him in the lab. SSR took him into custody after that.”

 

“How do you know he was tortured?” Natasha had thought she'd seen most of SHIELD's dirty little secrets but she'd definitely never heard this one.

 

“After I came back I looked up what had happened to him. As much as I could find, anyway. All the files were hardcopies and a lot of them had been destroyed. He was tortured and experimented on. They used him to kill people, too. And I. Let. It. Happen. So, _that's_ what I owe him.”

 

“That's why you did what he wanted? Didn't tell anyone, didn't push even though having him be there and be silent was miserable for you?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Nat thought about that for a moment.

 

“Seems to me that was pretty decent of you.”

 

“I couldn't-” Steve sighed and took a long pull of his terrible coffee. “I couldn't do anything else.”

 

Nat quirked her lips into an almost smile and slung an arm most of the way around Steve's gigantic shoulders. “I'll walk with you to the Tower.” she said.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the moment you've all been waiting for: Steve's explanation!!
> 
> Whooo!
> 
> I hope Steve is a bit more understandable now, and if he says some stuff that's contradictory it's because he's really upset just like seriously the man is a ginormous mess right now. Also, I know that his rant with Sam is a bit OOc but it seemed like the natural reaction somehow, because he's been bottling it up for so long. 
> 
> Oh, also Natasha refers to the dog as Yashenka because I mentioned earlier that since Steve hadn't named the dog all the Avengers have different names for him. 
> 
> Anyway, hope this chapter makes you happy! If it does leave me comments cause they make me very happy!


	7. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky stare at each other, eat some cereal, watch PBS and....talk about ...things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Steve says some very hurtful things. But he's freaking out, so. 
> 
> This takes place a week or so after the last chapter, following a full moon.
> 
> Edit 2/12/2016: Hi guys! I've gotten a lot of comments from people unhappy with how this fic portrays Steve/Steve and Bucky's relationship, and there's not really anything I can say in response because overall I have to admit that of all the works I have on this site this is probably the one I'm least happy with and which really fails to convey what I was trying to convey. 
> 
> With that in mind I've decided to remove it from the site. I've been considering doing so for a while, but this is one of my more popular fics, so I'm giving those who love it some pretty advance notice. So! If you want to download or save this fic elsewhere you have a month to do so. I will be deleting this sometime in January.

Bucky woke up human.

 

He woke up depressingly and terrifyingly human.

 

He uncurled from the bottom of the cage and reached through the bars to unlock the door before performing some minor contortions to turn the handle on the closet. The entire manoeuvre is pretty far from graceful and once the closet door gives Bucky found himself tumbling out onto the floor.

 

It was completely understandable that Steve, who had been eating cereal on the couch, would be a little shocked this. Particularly since Bucky was, as always after a transformation, completely buck-ass nude.

 

Steve stared at Bucky with his mouth open, spoon frozen halfway from the bowl.

 

Bucky tried to grin weakly.

 

Steve kept staring.

 

Bucky flopped over onto his stomach and sat up. He waved awkwardly.

 

Steve saluted with his spoon, still looking more than a little dazed.

 

He glanced very obviously at Bucky's genitalia, turned bright red, cleared his throat and looked away before saying: “Umm..do you want to borrow some clothes?”

 

Bucky nodded, grateful he hadn't had to speak first.

 

Steve got up and shuffled into his bedroom returning with a t-shirt, some sweatpants and some boxers. He shrugged as he handed them over, “I just chose what I was sure would fit...”

 

Bucky nodded and stood, slipping them on right away.

 

Steve nodded towards the kitchen area. “Want something to eat?”

 

Bucky nodded and Steve poured him some milk and cereal.

 

They sat down together on the couch with their bowls and ate in silence for a few minutes, before Steve finally blurted out: “Are you going to be human for a while, then?”

 

Bucky paused torn between the truth and wishful thinking. “Yes.” he finally croaked his voice barely above a whisper.

 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay then. Okay.” He put down his bowl. “Is it a choice? To change?”

 

Bucky opened and closed his mouth twice before he finally replied: “I only have control of the change when the full moon is setting.”

 

The muscle in Steve's jaw tensed and he stood abruptly to put his dish in the sink. “Could you have changed back at the setting of any of the full moons in the last year?”

 

Yes. Obviously. But, Bucky knew that was not what Steve wanted to hear.

 

He didn't say anything.

 

Steve stared at the wall above the sink for a moment. “Do you want to go up to the Tower?” he asked.

 

“No.” Bucky replied- probably too quickly.

 

Steve sighed like he was Atlas re-shouldering the world. “Okay.” He leaned against the sink, every muscle tense. “So. What now?” he asked.

 

Bucky glanced at Steve's barely used television. “We could watch PBS?”

 

Steve didn't relax. “Okay. Yeah. We can do that.”

 

They sat in tense awkward silence for the entirety of a show that seemed to involve murder in a fancy old-timey house, but was probably the second episode of a series, since Bucky absolutely couldn't follow it.

 

Finally he couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't take Steve's silence, and his tense shoulders and the weight of everything unsaid. He couldn't stand it. Not anymore.

 

“I know you're angry, Steve, just get angry. I meant it, you know. You don't have to pretend to be okay with me.” he blurted out.

 

“....what?” Steve sounded completely baffled.

 

“The note. That I left when I first came here. I meant that. I know you're angry, just be angry alright?”

 

Steve stared at him. “...Are we talking about the Shakespeare?'

 

“YES!”

 

Steve stared at him blankly. “Meant it how?”

 

“I don't care what you do or how you treat me just so long as you let me stay.”

 

Steve groaned and leaned back running his hands through his hair. “Please tell me that while you _meant it_ you don't mean it _literally_?”

 

“Yes. I literally meant it?”

 

“ _Spurn me strike me, Neglect me lose me_? You'd actually be okay with me hitting you?!”

 

Bucky thought that Steve probably wouldn't react well if Bucky responded without thinking. So he stayed silent for a second before replying. “Yeah, Steve. I- you- I'd do anything for you. Nothing you could do would ever make me want to leave.”

 

Steve all but leapt up from the couch. “That is-! That....” he leaned down and looked Bucky in the eye. “That's _not_ friendship, okay? That's not love either that's...I don't know _what_ that is okay? But, you can't just follow me around accepting whatever scraps I give you. That's not life. I mean, what do you want, huh? When we were kids I was always harping on my dreams but what about you? What did you want?”

 

Bucky stared at him. “I wanted you to be happy, and safe and have enough to eat. Occasionally I wanted to get into a particular girl's pants or to try a new steak house or dance hall. I was never a dreamer- you dreamed for both of us. But I mean- that other stuff's gone now. All I got's you. I mean you were the only thing good I ever had anyway but-” Bucky shrugged. “I'd have done anything for you then, same as now.”

 

Steve leaned against the counter. “You're saying you would have done anything I asked?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, why didn't you leave Erskine alone?” Steve said it tentatively, carefully, but Bucky could feel how much and how long Steve has wanted nothing more than to ask that question.

 

Bucky turned to face him and glared. “Because he was going to hurt you!”

 

“How did you know that? Huh? You never met him and you knew I trusted him. Why would you-”

 

Steve cut himself off and took a deep breath. “I know you went there on purpose, everything I've seen since you came to stay, I know that you are careful. That you know to be careful and based on what I remember you were always careful, so why would you go there and head right for him like that?”

 

“He hurt you!!”

 

“I AGREED TO BE HURT!!!”

 

“THAT DOESN'T MATTER!!! I COULDN'T LET YOU GET HURT!!!”

 

“IT WAS MY CHOICE BUCKY!!!”

 

“NO IT WASN'T!!!” Bucky screamed

 

Steve stepped back like he'd been slapped. “It wasn't?” he hissed. “It was _my_ body. It was my _life_. It damn well _was_ my choice. I was going to die anyway, Bucky-”

 

“NO YOU WEREN'T AND IT _WASN'T_ JUST YOUR LIFE!!!!”

 

“-don't pretend you didn't know it. Everyone knew it. My lungs were bad, my heart was bad, I caught everything. If one thing didn't get me something else would've. I wanted a chance, and if I died taking it than at least I wouldn't have died cause I just sat there waiting for the reaper!”

 

“How can you say that? You were an illustrator. You'd gotten a job! You were making good money... You'd gotten so you could cover your rent and pills on your own, unless there was an emergency-”

 

“The way I was there was always going to be an emergency. And then I'd have lost that job 'cause I was too sick to work. And you'd have swept in to save the day.” Steve sounded so bitter. “That was what you wanted, wasn't it? You wanted us to stay like that, together, no one else in that apartment in Brooklyn...You say I was the only good thing you ever had, but I'm not a thing, and I sure as hell was never belonged to you.” He said it with a sneer but there were tears in his eyes. “I thought we were friends. I thought you cared about what I wanted Bucky. About what my dreams were. 'Cause I sure as hell cared about yours. I knew you wanted to marry Bridgette when you were barely 19, and I could never figure out what happened there, how you let her get away.” Steve huffed and waved at the room. “I'm guessing all this mess had something to do with it.”

 

Bucky shook his head. “Nah, she threw me over fer some Italian boy. I was too sore about it to tell ya.” He brushed the hair out of his eyes. “How'd you know I loved her? I never said anything to you...”

 

Steve chuckled. “You were my best friend Bucky, I could tell.”

 

Bucky grinned.

 

Steve was shaking, Bucky suddenly realized. He didn't look too upset but his whole body was shaking.

 

“I was never yours though, was I? I'm your...project or you pet or something. You owned me back then, didn't you?” Steve murmured.

 

“That's not true Steve.”

 

“Isn't it? You do as you please, always have. Didn't even read that letter I left for you, did you? Didn't even think about what I wanted, just kept laughing up your sleeve letting me try to enlist.  Now you're still doing it. You just show up, and it sounds like you had at least 6 or 7 chances to turn back into someone who could talk to me, and you didn't because you knew- you knew that you'd finally have to face me, didn't matter that it was killing me for you to be so- so...fucking silent..” He huffed out a humourless laugh. “Why _did_ you change back anyway? Huh?” Steve looked at Bucky expectantly.

 

Bucky blushed. “It was getting harder and harder to stay a wolf. I don't think I'm meant to stay like that for so long. Like...overusing a muscle or something? Eventually it gives out.”

 

Steve laughed again. “So, if you'd had any other choice, you never would have talked to me would you? You'd just have followed me.” Steve sighed and leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. “ _Only give me leave, unworthy as I am, to follow you_.”

 

“Please, Steve.” Bucky begged.

 

Steve scrubbed his hands over his face. “God help me.” he murmured, and it sounded like an actual prayer. “What am I going to do with you Bucky?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, you payed for the murder. 70 years, with cruel and unusual punishment. But, I can't keep living like this.”

 

“Steve...”

 

“What do you want me to say Bucky?!”

 

“Say you understand. And you forgive me.”

 

“I understand. I think. But, I- I know things were bad, before we met, for you. I know that. Given recent developments I don't think I know how bad, but...you can't just, I don't know, love me forever and follow me without question because I was the first person to be decent to you. And I don't know if I can let you...I don't know if- Things can never be the way they were Bucky. I don't think we can ever get back there.”

 

“We can, Steve. You'll see.” Bucky stood up and stepped towards Steve.

 

Steve took a step back. “Nah, Buck. Maybe we can be friends again. But I don't like the worry that you'll do whatever I ask just because I ask it and it doesn't matter how you feel. Like I said that's not...friendship, that's not love. That's just obedience, or something.”

 

“Are you saying I have to leave?”

 

“No! I- You're the only person I've got left from home. I could never turn you out. As long as you want to stay you've got a place here.”

 

“So what now?”

 

“Now, maybe we go talk to Tony? I know he's been dying to have a conversation with you-”

 

Bucky shot him a look and Steve corrected himself: “That is, he's been dying to have a conversation with you where you actually can speak.”

 

Bucky tried to chuckle but it came out strained.

 

Steve stared at nothing for a minute. “Or, we could stay here...camp out, see if we can find a movie with Betty Grable on television somewhere....”

 

“I know you hate her, let's compromise and say Bette Davis.” Bucky joked.

 

Steve was still standing stiffly but he smiled anyway. And Bucky smiled back. Steve would forgive him. He'd see, they could get back to how things were before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first: Holds up garbage can lid to hide from tomatoes.  
> I just wanted to say a few things about this chapter which is that a lot of stuff is said in the heat of the moment here, or the characters say things which they believe to be true about themselves but which is actually not true. 
> 
> Also the thing they're quoting is from A Midsummer Night's Dream and was used by Bucky as a note in the first fic. It's a speech from a woman who is madly in love to the object of her affection, who despises her. Complete relevant text is: Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me/ Neglect me, lose me. Only give me leave, unworthy as I am, to follow you.  
>  
> 
> Note: During the thirties, forties and fifties being an artist working in illustration was a very lucrative and stable career path. If you went to school for it you were pretty much guaranteed a steady well-paying job. Betty Grable and Bette Davis were actress from the 1930's and 1940's. 
> 
> Also, sorry for late update. I'm trying to keep churning it out but it's gotten a bit tricky. This confrontation was originally meant to come later on but I think it really needed to happen now, so...I'm kind of at a lost for what comes next. Also, school is busy, so ficcing is not.
> 
> Edit 2/12/2016: Hi guys! I've gotten a lot of comments from people unhappy with how this fic portrays Steve/Steve and Bucky's relationship, and there's not really anything I can say in response because overall I have to admit that of all the works I have on this site this is probably the one I'm least happy with and which really fails to convey what I was trying to convey. 
> 
> With that in mind I've decided to remove it from the site. I've been considering doing so for a while, but this is one of my more popular fics, so I'm giving those who love it some pretty advance notice. So! If you want to download or save this fic elsewhere you have a month to do so. I will be deleting this sometime in January.


	8. Slumber Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky goes to spend the night at Tony's. 
> 
> It doesn't go well. 
> 
> Sam Wilson wants to know what God he angered to deserve this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit 2/12/2016: Hi guys! I've gotten a lot of comments from people unhappy with how this fic portrays Steve/Steve and Bucky's relationship, and there's not really anything I can say in response because overall I have to admit that of all the works I have on this site this is probably the one I'm least happy with and which really fails to convey what I was trying to convey. 
> 
> With that in mind I've decided to remove it from the site. I've been considering doing so for a while, but this is one of my more popular fics, so I'm giving those who love it some pretty advance notice. So! If you want to download or save this fic elsewhere you have a month to do so. I will be deleting this sometime in January.

Bucky woke up the next morning when Steve opened the closet door and handed him a bathrobe. Bucky took it gratefully, he tried to smile at Steve but he must have done it wrong because Steve didn't smile back and just looked pained.

 

Bucky scrambled to his feet and followed Steve into the kitchen area where Steve handed him a mug of coffee and then leaned against the sink with a sigh.

 

Steve had obviously already been on his morning run, he was sweaty and still in his fancy exercise duds. Which was par for the course except that it takes a whole hell of a lot to get Steve sweating these days and usually he came back from the run looking fresh as a daisy (even if to Bucky's wolf senses he didn't always smell like one).

 

“We're going up to the Tower today.” Steve declared seriously. “I think it might be good for us to get out.”

 

 

 

Tony was happy about seeing human!Bucky in the flesh, seriously. The man's photos truly did not do justice to how deeply attractive he was. Seriously, what was in Brooklyn's water in the 40's?

 

But then again, Steve had been a tiny little man who'd been kept alive only by the fact that his various body parts couldn't decide which of them would have the honour of killing him. So, probably not the water then.

 

Anyway, Human Bucky was, on top of being kind of stunning (yeah, Tony's pretty straight but he's also a thrill seeking party-boy okay? He's been known to appreciate the pretty of all genders), rather unsurprisingly given the attitude he had managed to convey in canine form with significantly fewer facial muscles, a real piece of work.

 

“Come one step closer with that and you'll lose an arm, bub.” Human Bucky growled pointing a finger threateningly at Tony who had tried to advance on him with a blood-pressure cuff.

 

Tony gave Steve a demanding look, who groaned.

 

“Listen, Buck, Tony's not going to do anything invasive or uncomfortable, okay? Just take your blood pressure look into your eyes, ears and throat, and do a quick reflex test. He doesn't even have to touch you for most of that.”

 

Bucky, for lack of a better word, pouted.

 

“ _You_ can put the cuff on me Steve.” Bucky declared.

 

Steve sighed, again, and took the cuff from Tony, carefully inflating it and reading Tony the readings.

 

Bucky was still clearly sulking at Steve, who was trying valiantly to continue interacting with his friend without acknowledging said sulk. Tony was kind of impressed. He wasn't quite at Pepper's level but he was pretty good at that cool calm and collected thing.

 

The Brooklyn Boys stayed for dinner and then Steve, as awkwardly and regretfully as a parent leaving a hysterical toddler at their first day of preschool, coaxed Bucky into agreeing to stay over so that Tony could document the transformation in a controlled setting. There was some heated whispering that Tony so wished he could have overheard.

 

Bucky looked a bit heartbroken but eventually conceded.

 

Tony totally doesn't raise an eyebrow like an old-lady who's just happened across some really juicy gossip. He _totally_ doesn't.

 

Anyway, Bucky was a bit listless after Steve went. Tony couldn't help but make the comparison to a dog pinning for it's owner. It was unkind and he has learned enough since the Cave Incident to not say it out loud but he does think it emphatically.

 

That night Tony set up the computers to monitor every aspect of Bucky's transformation.

 

He left Bucky in his cage with a blanket and a Captain America teddy bear which the man did not look thrilled by but which, Tony noticed, he did not throw at Tony's head, so...small victories.

 

The next morning, the data was there, but Bucky, the bear, some of Tony's best casual lounge wear, and $500 in cash was gone.

Shit. Tony lost Steve's freezerburn-ain't-no-world-war-large-enough-ain't-no-century-long-enough-to-keep-me-from-getting-to-you boyfriend.

 

This was going to be so much worse than the time Tony tried to dognap Bucky.

 

So. Much. Worse.

 

 

 

This was the second time that Sam Wilson had opened the door to find the very handsome result of government experimentation standing on his stoop. He silently asked the God of his Fathers what he had done to deserve this sort of unnecessary excitement in his life.

 

Bucky glowered at him and didn't say anything.

 

Sam smiled at him and waited.

 

Bucky stared at the ground and mumbled. “Can I come in?”

 

Sam nodded. “Sure man, why not?”

 

As Bucky walked past Sam noticed that a) the clothes he was wearing were several sizes too smal and b) there was a Capitain Ameribear sticking out of his back.

 

“Sooo...” Sam said as he followed Bucky into the living room where the man was standing awkwardly staring at the couch. “...Whacha doin' here?” he asked.

 

Bucky shrugged and sort of gently held his backpack in a way that was totally not a hug. Because Sam was willing to accept a lot of crazy in this world but he was not going to accept that badass werewolf assassins got nervous and had to hug their teddy bears through their backpacks. That was not a thing that Sam was willing to acknowledge.

 

“Steve and I had a fight and then he made me go stay with Tony.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

Sam kept staring at Bucky waiting for the second part of that story.

 

“...so I came here?” Bucky finished after a moment.

 

“Does Steve know you came here?” Sam asked, even though he knew based on Steve's increasingly frantic text messages that Bucky had done the equivalent of climbing out of a window this morning after having robbed Tony Stark blind.

 

“No.” Bucky muttered.

 

“Well, that's not fair man, cause Steve's losing his mind. Thinks you've been kidnapped by spooks and/or this is an elaborate ruse on Tony's part in another attempt to a dognap...you.”

Sam trailed off awkwardly after he realized he'd referred to a person as a dog. Bucky had clearly noticed his slip up and looked even more unimpressed.

 

“Well, it wasn't.” Bucky growled.

 

“Yeah, I'm getting that. Boy's got to be free.”

 

Bucky looked at Sam like he was insane.

 

“Do you mind if I tell Steve you're here?” Sam asked desperately. Keeping the location of Captain America's best friend a secret from said super solder was only going to lead to blood and maiming but Sam had principles vis a vis traumatized soldiers and if Bucky needed to hide from Steve that was his right and Sam would do his best to protect it.

 

“...no. Can I stay here? Just for a few days?” Bucky responded.

 

Sam opened and closed his mouth a couple times. “Yes? You're not going to go all wolf-man on me are you?”

 

Bucky shrugged. “Not for another month.”

 

Sam nodded. “Great. I'm going to phone Steve.” He heads for the kitchen where he'd left his phone but hesitated in the doorway. “What did fight about anyway?”

 

Bucky stared at the floor. “My lack of boundaries and fundamental respect for Steve as an independent person, the damaging nature of my codependency and need to create my own identity separate from his. That was about the gist.”

 

Sam blinked. “Shit. That's pretty heavy.”

 

Bucky finally sat down on the couch, his slackss ended well above his ankles. “Yeah. Steve said we should maybe spend a bit of time apart. So, here I am. Being apart.”

 

“Right.” Sam made another attempt to get his phone but hesitated once again. “I gotta ask man, who's clothes are those?”

 

Bucky looked down at himself as though he needed to be reminded.

 

“Oh, Tony Stark's. I took them because they looked expensive.”

 

“Oh-kay...I'm just gonna go call Steve and tell him you're alright.”

 

“Sure.” Bucky said staring at the remote. “Do you mind if I watch TV?”

 

“Yeah, man...go for it.”

 

 

Bucky started flicking through the channel's and stopped with a smile on a BBC production of Richard III. He gingerly lay back onto the couch. That would do nicely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I would be back in a month, and here I am! Sorry it's a bit late, but I promise, I am not abandoning this. 
> 
> I went to AoU but all it taught me was that Steve is the saddest superhero.
> 
> If you want more you should comment! They fuel my writing flame. I'm kind of a sucker like that. Hope y'all liked it. Sorry to have kept you guys waiting.


	9. Much Needed Research

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky tries to find a way to move forward. Sam watches.

Bucky started flicking through the channel's and stopped with a smile on a BBC production of Richard III. He gingerly lay back onto the couch. That would do nicely.

Bucky knew he could just wash up on Sam Wilson's couch and stay there indefinitely. But the thing was, he'd never really had to choose his own destiny before. It had all been a matter of necessity before: Bucky needed food, so he had to work. He worked at a newstand when he was a kid, and then when he got bigger he worked at the docks, and he tried to go to school because he needed to know how to read. Steve, couldn't do the sort of work that Bucky could, because of his health, so when the time came Bucky left school for good so Steve could pay.

 

There'd been that moment with Bridgette back when he was young and stupid when Bucky had wanted something, but he'd known he couldn't have her. Not with him being the way he was.

 

But the thing was, that now, now Bucky had food and clothing and most importantly, time to stop and try and think of the ways that he might be able to live his life and work around the fact that he was a wolfman.

 

Of course Bucky had no idea how to do that, which was where he took a leave of of Steve's book and decided to read some stories and watch a lot of movies.

 

Searching “werewolf” in Netflix seemed like a good idea.

 

Sam came home from work to find Bucky still camped out on the couch, apparently unmoved at all from this morning. The sound of screaming echoed from the television.

 

Sam ducked around and watched as a dark figured walked down a hallway that looked vaguely scientific as the lights flickered.

 

Bucky was riveted.

 

“Should you be watching this man?” Sam asked. “It looks like it might...”

 

“Shhh!!!' Mitchell's saving George and Nina.”

 

On screen Mitchell killed someone.

 

“That's saving?”

 

“He's a Vampire, George and Nina have been lied to by evil scientists who promised them a cure but are really doing nefarious experiments in which all the test subjects have died horrible deaths.”

 

“Okay, that really seems like something you shouldn't be watching?”

 

Bucky paused the show and turned to look at Sam. “Why?” his face was honestly curious.

 

“Because it seems to overlap with your own experiences and might bring up some...painful memories?”

 

Bucky seemed to think about this for a second. “These werewolves are human looking, not wolf-y the way I was. I'd tell you more but I'm already at the end of season 2.” he explains and then turns the television back on.

 

There's more screaming and Mitchell his face covered with blood pins a young woman to a wall.

 

Sam shook his head and headed to his bedroom.

 

Bucky remained engrossed in the adventures of George, Mitchell and Nina for a few more days. Then there's the 'American version' which Bucky seemed to have slightly less patience for but also watched in it's entirety.

 

Sam was willing to admit that in terms of advice about werewolves there aren't a lot of resources available and Bucky really could do worse than the Space Channel.

 

And then. Horror of Horrors, he found him reading Twilight.

 

Bucky looked up with a frown. “I read on the internet that there are werewolves in this. There are not werewolves in this.”

 

Sam gulped. “Umm...I think they're in the later books, man. But, honestly there's probably better books you could be reading.”

 

Bucky flushed and looked down. “Probably not. My reading's not so good. This is okay though. Even if it is long. She ever gonna kiss this guy?”

 

Sam shrugged. “I assume she does eventually?”

 

Bucky looked midly appeased and opened the book again.

 

Sam's not sure what to think of the fact that Bucky read the entire Twilight Saga back to back.

 

He'd be worried except that Bucky was also watching everything with a werewolf that has ever been put to film. The VA counselor in him was a bit facinated, and he wondered if Bucky had ever had to luxury of trying to process exactly the what it was to be...whatever it was he was.

 

It was nearly two weeks later when Bucky plunked down across from Sam at breakfast and stared at him intently for a moment.

 

Sam's gotten used to the fact that Bucky often seemed to have to work himself up to starting conversations. Particularly important ones.

 

“I think I need to go away.” Bucky finally got out.

 

Sam nodded. “Go away...where?”

 

Bucky shrugge and waved vaguely in front of him. “Just...away. In the books and tv and stuff that's what they do when things get the way things have gotten for me. They go away and then they come back and feel better or at least don't feel as bad as they would've if they'd stayed.”

 

Sam shakes his head sadly. “Bucky...they're just stories.”

 

Bucky looked at his sideways. He didn't make a lot of eye contact either, Sam had noticed. He wondered if that's because of the wolf thing or the trauma.

 

“Yeah...But, Steve wants me to want things, and to not...I dunno. He says I never did nothing for myself, that I just...Until the spooks nabbed me I'd never even been to all the boroughs in New York...” He trails off and stares at the table.

 

“I gotta do something. Stayin' here won't help anything.”

 

Sam stared at Bucky for a minute. “I guess that's truth. And this is probably as close to wisdom as you're going to get from Stephanie Meyers. I'll help, but you have to make the decisions okay?”

 

 

Bucky nodded. “I'm gonna ask Tony for the money.”

 

And he does. He got Tony to buy him a car and make him a bank account and fill it with money. He spent the next two weeks researching this new world and the places he might go.

 

It all left him feeling empty. He'd never really thought about going travelling let alone wanted to, but it seemed like the thing to do.

 

So he reads about New Jersey and Chicago and San Francisco and doesn't think about leaving Stevie or how despite all his protests otherwise it hadn't taken much difficulty at all for Bucky to go running.

 

He went back to Tony's for the full moon, and allowed himself to be wired and monitored. He didn't like it but he felt too numb to care.

 

So he rode out the three days and totally didn't cuddle his Captain Ameribear.

 

The morning after the last night of the full moon Sam showed up and slid a key across the breakfast table. Bucky frowned at it and then looked up at Sam questioningly.

 

Sam smiled. “It's from Steve. He told me to tell you he thought this was a good idea but that he wanted you to know that you could always come home.”

 

Bucky blinked and nodded.

 

He drove out of New York City for the first time in his life that afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short. But, y'all should know that I've finally figured out a way forward with this and so hopefully will be updating a little more often and a little more regularly. So, be warned now: there will be shipping and m/m relationships soon. Usually I keep Bucky and Steve relatively platonic when I write them but NO LONGER!! This fic now officially has a Steve/Bucky end game. So don't get pissy with me about it when that happens. You are officially being warned. 
> 
> Let me know what you think. 
> 
> Also, Bucky is watching a show called Being Human which is about a Werewolf, a Vampire and a Ghost trying to lead relatively normal lives.
> 
> Edit 2/12/2016: Hi guys! I've gotten a lot of comments from people unhappy with how this fic portrays Steve/Steve and Bucky's relationship, and there's not really anything I can say in response because overall I have to admit that of all the works I have on this site this is probably the one I'm least happy with and which really fails to convey what I was trying to convey. 
> 
> With that in mind I've decided to remove it from the site. I've been considering doing so for a while, but this is one of my more popular fics, so I'm giving those who love it some pretty advance notice. So! If you want to download or save this fic elsewhere you have a month to do so. I will be deleting this sometime in January.


	10. Bucky's Road Trip of Self Discovery (TM)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky faces the past, and contemplates the future. He also gets a manicure, dances a lot, decides trees are overrated, kisses a girl, kisses a boy and totally doesn't cry over Steve Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit 2/12/2016: Hi guys! I've gotten a lot of comments from people unhappy with how this fic portrays Steve/Steve and Bucky's relationship, and there's not really anything I can say in response because overall I have to admit that of all the works I have on this site this is probably the one I'm least happy with and which really fails to convey what I was trying to convey. 
> 
> With that in mind I've decided to remove it from the site. I've been considering doing so for a while, but this is one of my more popular fics, so I'm giving those who love it some pretty advance notice. So! If you want to download or save this fic elsewhere you have a month to do so. I will be deleting this sometime in January.

He went West. He bumped around New Jersey for a day and then headed out for long haul drives. He drove for days, stopping ocassionally for a short look around before moving on again.

 

He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he did not care particularly for nature. Or small towns. Trees, in particular he felt, were overrated.

 

He liked driving though. It was calm. It made the things he wished he didn't feel more bearable.

 

He missed Stevie, and he hated him and he wanted to turn around and magically find himself back in the Brooklyn he'd grown up with and the Steve he'd used to know back waiting for him.

 

Which he was man enough to admit was probably part of why actual-current-Steve had been so pissed. Bucky couldn't claim to love him and then hate him for having changed in pursuit of what he'd always wanted.

That wasn't how love worked. Or at least. Bucky was pretty sure it wasn't how love worked. It certainly wasn't fair, especially considering Steve seemed to have dealt with the whole wolfman thing about as well as could be expected.

 

Excluding the whole: allowing Bucky to be carted off by a nefarious government body part.

 

Which....maybe Bucky was angry about. Or would be angry about. Once he remembered how to be angry.

 

Bucky had to pull over somewhere flat and farmy to scream and cry and punch the steering wheel. He felt, even as he did it, that he was watching himself from a distrance, at a remove, and he couldn't quite understand what the man he was watching was feeling.

 

He put the car back into gear and drove on. Wiping at the tears in frustration and wishing they would just stop. Just stop please.

 

He slept in his car and didn't really stop driving until he reached Seattle a some point developing such a pointed scorn for the emptiness of the wild places and narrowness of small towns that he doesn't detour South much at all the way he had planned. He didn't go to see Mnt. Rushmore or the Grand Canyon or Las Vegas. He just drove West, past prairies and over mountains and through Cities, and concrete that he hates almost much as he hates everything.

 

He didn't know what to do in Seattle anymore than he knew what to do in New York or New Jersey. He went for a hike, which is a terrible idea- he didn't have the right shoes or a backpack.

 

But he tramped through the forest anyway silently resenting every rock and tree he passed. Hating the fine mist of rain but feeling like he needed to move and do something or he'd lose what was left of his mind.

 

And then he got to the Redwoods. And they were big like Skyscrapers and he stood there opened mouthed. Even, the strange long lives of Stephen Grant Rogers and his friend Bucky were nothing to these trees. Less than nothing. He still thought all other trees were over rated but these ones, these were pretty cool.

 

And suddenly he wanted with a vicious violent certainty. He wondered if this was how Steve had felt all the time when he had been small and kind and angry. No wonder he fought so much.

 

Bucky wanted not to be alone right now. He wanted to be able to elbow Steve in the ribs and point at these strange mouments and make a dirty joke.

 

He wanted to pretend he was still stupid and 27 instead of jaded and 98.

 

He wanted to be back in that bar on St. Patrick's day in 1941 drunk off his ass and laughing at nothing with the whole damn neighbourhood.

 

Bucky looked back the way he'd come. He didn't want to be alone, and he wanted to go dancing damnit. Even if he didn't know how, in this new century.

 

 

Of course he hardly even had any clothes and he smelt a little rank, so using the card Tony gave him, he bought some clothes and checked himself into a hotel.

 

That's for the electrodes, he thought as the concierge announced the seemingly astronomical price per night of the room.

 

That night he went out. He thought his hair was over long but here in this city no one seemed to care and soon Bucky didn't either.

 

He went to a club, and he didn't like the music, not really, it was just noise. But he liked the closeness of the dance floor, the energy of the mob and the bass rattling his ribcage.

 

He figured out pretty quickly that 'dancing' in this context was really just trying to come as close as you possibly could to having sex with your dance partner without actually having sex with your dance partner.

 

He kissed a girl for the first time since 1942.

 

It was fun. Or at least it was what this century seemed to think fun was, Bucky still wasn't sure if he agreed. He missed dancing where there were actual steps, and a band playing.

 

But the nighttime was still the same...maybe even better than it had been back then. He loved the strange intimacy of meeting strangers in the dark. The way you had to choose right away whether or not you trusted them and more often than not you found that you did.

 

He liked the conversations in bars and dinners. Listening the waitresses on the night shift and the kids coming out of clubs.

 

Bucky used the credit card to buy some more clothes and he blended into the young people who stayed out late and drank too much.

 

He kissed another girl.

 

And another.

 

He fell in love with strangers for the evening, and forgot them by morning.

 

He got rundown and sweaty and then sat in the bath in his hotel room trying to chase the feeling he had when he was part of the pulsating wild crowd.

 

He thought about Steve. Not the one he used to know. The Real one, the current one. The man waiting in New York, or no- not waiting, Steve was not waiting. He was getting on with his life....the man who was in New York and willing to let Bucky back in if only Bucky would open the door.

 

He craddled his head in his hands.

 

The next night he let a lady take him home. They had sex. It felt good physically, but afterwards Bucky wandered down to the harbour and watched the rain on the sea.

 

He got drenched and he didn't care. He wanted....he ached with wanting but he doesn't know what he was aching for.

 

It wasn't the past. He'd come to realize that at least. He wasn't mourning any might-have-beens. Not the way he suspected Steve was. Might-have-beens didn't concern Bucky, what did he care? He was here and Steve's here and that's all Bucky ever needed.

 

Bucky sat up straight, and thought back to the clubs and the parties and the bars.

 

Men loveed each other in this age. _Love_ -loved, and it's not, maybe, fully accepted but it's not a curse.

 

Could Bucky love Steve like that? He wondered. The idea had never occurred to him before, and even now it seemed almost too convenient. A simplification of the tangled web of history, betrayals, and loyalty that irrevocably and unalterably bound the two of them together.

 

It would be far too simple wouldn't it, if Bucky had been wanting Steve and aching for want of Steve this whole time?

 

Maybe that was part of it. But, maybe it wasn't. Maybe Bucky'd just gotten this idea and it wasn't even real. After all Bucky was bad at knowing his own mind these days and as much as he wished it were otherwise, he'd never understood love. He'd never been sure he'd felt it.

 

He knew, based on what other people said, that he loved Steve. Though it didn't feel the way people described love to feel. Was he in love with Steve though?

 

That was a more thorny question. When Bucky was 19 he had declared passionate love for the orange-haired Brigitte. Steve had called it an infatuation and scoffed at Bucky's antics. Bucky hadn't cared he'd felt full of light and full of air every time she'd smiled at him. And when she'd thrown him over without a thought he'd felt like every dark thought he'd ever had about himself in the dark sad nights when he'd thought himself damned at been true. But, Steve had hugged him and hardly even teased him for crying. All the feelings had burnt themselves out rather quickly.

 

Steve never left (except once), Bucky was always the one leaving him.

 

Thinking of Steve didn't fill Bucky's head with light the way the slightest thought of Brigitte once had.

 

Bucky stood and walked back to his hotel. He got out his Starkpad and fliped through it looking at the places he might go, the adventures he might have.

 

He went South, he followed the coast into California and with a giddy heart, thinking of Capone and Alcatraz, headed to San Francisco.

 

 

He stayed in a place close enough to the Bay that he can smell the salt. He loved it, he decided.

 

He bought more clothes. Light stuff suitable for the weather here.

 

The hills amazed him.

 

He went to Alcatraz and thoroughly embarrassed himself asking questions about Capone and other mobsters whose careers he'd once followed with interest. He wished Steve were there so that their eyes would meet across the room and in a glance Bucky could share his excitement.

 

But, Steve wasn't there, and it was the tour guide who answered the questions and seemed delighted by Bucky's enthusiasm. Eventually Bucky caught himself and hid behind his over long hair (he really needed to cut it this was getting ridiculous).

 

He wandered through the streets, and walked for hours on the beach with his shirt tucked in to the back pocket of his shorts. It didn't occur to him to be self conscious of his scars until he was back in his hotel and caught sight of himself in the mirror.

 

They really are grizzly. It looked like he was in a knife fight where his opponent tried to cut him into pieces. He considered keeping his shirt on the next time he wandered down to the beach, but decided against it. If he noticed people staring he'd cover up, he didn't like being watched, but he also didn't actually feel anything at all about the scars.

 

Tentatively he headed down towards Castro Street, and parked himself on a bench to watch people, men, women, and people who look like neither but who might be both. He didn't know if he wanted this, or if he wanted it with Steve, or if he'd just found a new way of doing what he'd always done- which was use Steve as a way to try and fill the voids which he could feel running through him like fault lines.

 

He watched the men and women on the street, who were bold and strange and proud and he didn't know what he wanted.

 

So, he went back to the beach and looked at the ocean and thought about Steve.

 

He wished Steve were here (not really though if Steve were here everything would HURT).

 

He headed back to the hotel and watched _The Philadelphia Story_ and thought about Steve in 1941 when he'd professed undying love for Katharine Hepburn and Bucky'd leaned over and chuckled “Well that's too bad, cause maybe you could be a short Jimmy Stewart, but no way in hell you're Cary Grant.” Jimmy Stewart didn't get the girl in the end of the movie.

 

It made something squeeze in his chest, thinking of that. It hadn't been a nice thing to say, he realized now.

 

He turned off the movie before the end, and went out to wander as the sun set. He was hesitating at a patio, trying to decide whether to go in or keep walking when someone called to him.

 

He looked up in surprise to see the tour guide from Alcatraz.

 

“Hey, I know you. You took my tour.”

 

Bucky smiled sheepishly and ducked his head. He'd really embarassed himself. “Yeah, that was me.”

 

“Hey...” the man gave Bucky a look of such blatant assessment and sexual interest, that Bucky's not sure whether he should be intrigued or repulsed by it. “why don't you come sit with me and my friends.”

 

Bucky glanced behind him and saw a group of men watching the scene with avid interest. He nodded and followed the man over. “I'm Kevin, by the way.”

 

“Bucky.”

 

“Bucky? Really?”

 

Bucky shrugged.

 

Kevin grinned and slapped him on the shoulder which Bucky wasn't sure he liked, but the people at the table were friendly, and Bucky used to be good at this type of thing. Kevin introduced him and them, but Bucky forgot their names as soon as he said them.

 

One of them leaned forward and looked Bucky over, though this glance was more judgemental than sexual. “Let me guess...you're some escapee from a hick town that's finally made it to San Francisco where you can 'be yourself'.”

 

Bucky stared at him in shock for a moment. He was not sure if he was being scorned or lovingly teased. He could feel the moment stretching on too long, as he stayed silent.

 

“I'm from Brooklyn.” he finally blurted out to uproarious laughter from the other men at the table.

 

“You're kidding.”

 

“Nope. Born and bred.”

 

“Huh.” Kevin cut in. “It's true you do sort of sound like a Seinfeld episode.”

 

Bucky stared at him blankly, and then shrugged as though it was something he'd heard before. (he hadn't. He didn't know what Seinfeld was).

 

From there it was the sort of easy camaraderie Bucky had been finding with strangers since Seattle. They ordered Sangria, which Bucky hadn't had before (that he remembered) and it was sweet and strong and they're all chattering about this and that. He liked the feeling of sitting there drinking and listening.

 

Bucky didn't say much, he just listened and let the alcohol slowly soften the world.

 

They ended up lying on the grass in a park. They were headed somewhere but then Bucky had veered off when he saw the park. Grass, unlike trees, was not overrated.

 

The other were off somewhere Bucky could hear their lighthearted speech and laughter.

 

Kevin the Alcatraz Tour Guide was lying next to him. They'd be looking at the stars, if those were visible but the city lights had blotted them out.

 

Kevin propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at Bucky.

 

“You never did say what your story was.” he remarked.

 

Bucky shifted to look at him and raised his eyebrows.

 

“You're not some country boy come to Gay-Mecca to escape. So, what brings you out here?”

 

Bucky smiled. “I...needed to leave New York. My friend and I had an argument and I felt as though he wanted to tell me to leave and never come back but was too kind to do that. So, I left on my own...” He stared at the starless sky for a moment. “The things he said made me realize I wasn't who I'd always thought I was, so I decided to try and figure that out. For the first time in my life I had enough put away that I could afford to take a break, so I got a car and just...drove out of town without a thought to where I was going to end up.”

 

Bucky met Kevin's gaze for a moment and then looked away. There was something too tender there. “I was in Seattle, got tired of the rain and thought about seeing Alcatraz, so I came down to San Francisco.”

 

Kevin somewhat hesitantly reached down and tucked a stray strand of Bucky's long hair behind his ear. There was a pause, as though he was waiting to see if Bucky would object, and then he leaned down and kissed Bucky on the mouth.

 

Bucky smiled into the kiss and opened his mouth to let Kevin slip him some tongue. He was not sure what he expected. It was both different but the same as kissing a woman. He decided he liked it and pulled Kevin closer running his hands along the man's shoulders, and back.

 

He liked the hardness of a male body, the planes and corners that are unlike a woman's soft curves.

 

They broke apart at the wolf-whistles of Kevin's friends, and Kevin pulled back, blushing in embarrassment. He moved back so he was once more laying next to Bucky propped up on his elbows.

 

He bit his lip and looked uncertainly at Bucky.

 

“Hey.” He tapped the centre of Bucky's forehead. “What's going on in there?”

 

Bucky couldn't hold back a laugh. “You really don't want to know Kevin. I'm fucked up man.”

 

“Oh?” and there was a wariness in Kevin's voice now, he's shifted slightly away from Bucky.

 

It hurt. It reminded him of those long months when he lived with Steve as a wolf and Steve could neither forgive him or blame him, and so they'd been locked together in twin orbits of hurt and misery, unable to move forward and unwilling to let go.

 

“How?” Kevin asked. “How are you fucked up?”

 

Bucky rolled over to face Kevin. He felt exposed and small. Something like tears had risen to the back of his throat.

 

“Fucked up like something...bad..happened to me and at first I seemed okay but then I didn't speak to anyone, not even the friend who took me in, for 8 months.”

 

Kevin stared at him in shock. Bucky couldn't help but curl in on himself. The tears were stinging at his eyes now and he sat up abruptly to try and keep them from spilling.

 

It wasn't that he hadn't made similar confessions to other strangers, driven on other nights by the strange intimacy that can arise when you're speaking to someone you will never see again. But, he'd just kissed Kevin, and the man didn't quite feel like a stranger.

 

 

Bucky stared into the distance for a minute. He should've offered to leave but he didn't want to leave the warmth of their little circle of companionship. Kevin's friends had settled on a bench were laughing and watching people pass on the street.

 

 

“Is that why you argued with your friend?” Kevin asked.

 

“Well, that and... other things.” Bucky admited.

 

“God, what a jerk.” Kevin sneered.

 

“No! He was right. He looked after me for all that time and didn't push or make demands, and then I got better and he...he said his piece. I owed him that much.” Bucky protested.

 

Kevin looked at him consideringly and then reached out to drape and arm over Bucky's shoulders.

 

“Anything else you want to get off your chest, Mr. Tall Dark Stranger?”

 

Bucky looked over at him and their faces were very close together. “Well, you're friend was right. I've always been too busy surviving to...um...have much opportunity to, ah be myself.”

 

Kevin looked at him consideringly, and then asked. “So, this 'friend' was he a friend _..._ ” Kevin put his hand on Bucky's knee. “Or a _friend_ ?” he slid him hand up Bucky's thigh practically to his crotch.” 

 

“He was just a friend.” Bucky said with a breathless laugh, “Though if we'd been  _friends”_ he cautiously looped one hand around Kevin's neck and slid the other around to grab his ass. “It might have solved a few things.” 

Kevin smiled at him, and there was something a little fierce there, something more like his frank assessment on the patio than his empathy of a moment earlier.

 

He pulled Bucky so they were flush together, chest to chest. Bucky could feel that Kevin was already getting a little hard. Kevin pulled him close and kissed him hard. Bucky gave into it and let him call the shots. He was the one who knew what he was doing, Bucky was still a little fuzzy on the practical mechanics of two men having sex, he probably should have looked that up, it would be helpful in this moment if he had more to work off of than some dirty jokes about sailors the guys at the docks used to tell.

 

But he wanted to see where this would go. His pulse was beating fast and quick and he wanted.

 

“Oh my god! Are you guys gonna fuck in the park?!” One of Kevin's friends squealed.

 

They broke the kiss but didn't separate.

 

Bucky looked at Kevin. He was up for it if Kevin was.  

 

Kevin laughed. “My place isn't far. Wanna come back with me?”

 

Bucky nodded.

 

They got up, Kevin with his hand tight around Bucky's wrist. He wasn't sure he liked that, particularly, but he liked being close. He liked feeling like he was not alone. It killed the lonely hollow in his chest.

 

“This is where we leave you, boys!” Kevin called, sounding triumphant. Bucky wondered which was real: the cocky young man with his conquest, and his frank perusal of Bucky's body at the patio, or the kind shy man who'd hesitated before he reached for Bucky and who had been gentle when faced with Bucky's weakness. Then again, maybe both were real.

 

Bucky had been cruel and kind together. Why shouldn't other people?

 

Kevin's place was tiny and crowded. He made a joke about the rent in San Francisco and this one Bucky did understand. Trying to pay the rent used to be the main motivation in his life.

 

Kevin smiled at him when they got to the bed room, and kissed him gently this time. No force behind it. Just a sweet promise.

 

Kevin backed up towards the bed and sat down. Bucky stood between the other man's legs and hesitated for a moment before thinking to hell with it, and peeling off his shirts and climbing up to straddle the other man's growing erection.

 

Kevin grinned at him and grabbed him for a kiss that was nearly violent in it's intensity. Then he pulled Bucky down with him and flipped them over so Bucky was flat on his back.

 

Kevin looked at him earnestly. “I know you don't have much experience, but don't worry- I'll steer you around the curves. Relax and this will be loads of fun.”

 

 

Bucky let Kevin continue to take the lead and pretended that Kevin wasn't maybe a little bit smug about that.

 

Kevin jerked him off and then asked Bucky if he'd be up for Kevin fucking him. Bucky whispered breathlessly that he'd never done that.

 

Kevin smiled the same triumphant smile he'd used when he was telling his friends he was taking Bucky home. “I know. It can feel real nice, but we don't have to if you don't want.”

 

It felt too much like a dare. Bucky had never been good at refusing a dare.

 

Having sex with a man was...different. It felt strange, but...good he thought. And then he didn't think at all but lost himself in the sensation and gasping for air as it overwhelmed him. Kevin came a second later and kissed Buck through the aftershocks.

 

The next morning it was not the light from the window that woke him up but Kevin yelping “Jesus Christ!”

 

Bucky sat up and turned to look at him. He raised an eyebrow in a question.

 

Kevin looked embarrassed, and stammered pointing at Bucky's scars. “I-it's just they didn't seem so bad. Last night.”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes and stood to get dressed.

 

Kevin sat awkwardly, watching him. He seemed uncomfortable with the silence.

 

“I didn't make you stop talking again, did I?” he sounded genuinely concerned.

 

Bucky yanked his shoes back on and sneered. “Don't flatter yourself.”

 

Kevin looked sheepish. “Sorry.”

 

Bucky grimaced. “Yeah, well, last night was fun. I'm in town for the rest of the week. I'll maybe see you around?”

 

Kevin nodded. “Sure.”

 

Bucky threw him a mock salute and headed out the door.

 

 

He shoved his hands into his pockets and ambled back to the hotel. He thought about Steve and whether Steve would accept this. He wasn't sure. Steve'd always been a good Catholic.

But, fuck if he didn't wish Steve was waiting for him, so he could lie next to him and tell him about it. Or lie to him about it the way he used to sometimes lie about what he'd been up to.

 

Or just say nothing and listen to the familiar rythyms of Steve's steady breathing. Bucky could forgive Erskine for what he's inadvertantly robbed them both of just for that sound of Steve breathing easy. Bucky didn't think he'd ever get tired of it after all those years of listening to the rasp and struggling labour of Steve's broken lungs.

 

He wondered again whether he loved Steve like that. He was more or less certain that he'd like very much to kiss Steve, but. well, he needed Steve, had needed him for years, and he was afraid to risk that again.

 

But he. He felt empty and lonely and he wanted more than anything to see Steve right now. He imagined him coming round the corner at top speed with his ridiculous muscles and his self-satisfied grin as he showed up all the other runners that he passed.

 

Bucky missed him. Even if he is still angry, Bucky wished he was here even if only to sigh and grieve and recriminate. He thought maybe if he could just hold Steve long enough and close enough than Steve might fill the empty places in Bucky's soul.

 

He headed back to the hotel and fell asleep watching Katharine Hepburn make Cary Grant's life impossible in “Bringing up Baby.”

 

Bucky wished he had a tame leopard. Maybe they could be friends when he was weaing his wolf skin. Probably not though. Cats were another thing that were overrated.

 

He dreamed he was filling Katharine Hepburns role in the movie, a screwball gall with a forceful personality who steamrolled over a sweet and stammering Steve. And then the leopard started speaking in iambic pentameter and Bucky realized he was wearing Katharin Hepburn's dress the entire time. But Steve smiled at him from behind enormous glasses so it's okay.

 

And he was not Katharine Hepburn at all he was the leopard, but not the tame one. He was the wild one. The killer, and Steve was still smiling at him through enormous glasses but there was something wrong in his expression.

 

It has to be okay.

 

He woke up breathless with a start.

 

It was dark outside again. He got dressed and went out for a walk.

 

 

 

He walked down towards the ocean again. He passed a shop that was all bright white with a long ceramic bar. It took him a long moment to figure out what the people behind the bar were doing, he had to stop and stare for a moment before it hit him: they were painting the patrons nails.

 

That was when he recognized one of Kevin's friends from the other night. The one who guessed that Bucky must be an escapee from a small town.

 

On a whim, Bucky walked in.

 

Kevin's friend wandered past him and then paused. “I know you.” he declared, but sounded perhaps uncertain.

 

“Yes. We met the other day.”

 

Kevin's friend smiled. “Buddy! Kevin's pretty tourist.”  
  


“Bucky actually, and I'm afraid I can't remember-”

 

“Dorian.” Dorian said with a grin. “Did you come here for a mani?”

 

Bucky shrugged. “If that's what the kids are calling it these days.”

 

Dorian nodded, and set Bucky's hands in a little sink as he tutted over the state of them. “You want colour?”

 

Bucky eyed the wall of colours behind him. “You decide.”

 

Dorian glaced at him as if he was accepting a dare, and returned with a matte green. A Fresh Colour. Bucky liked it, though he was not sure what was currently possessing him to let someone put it on his nails.

 

Bucky'd never had his nails done before. It felt nice. Almost like when he was little and Sarah Rogers would sit him down and tease the knots from his hair after he'd been away too long.

 

He wondered when the last time it was he thought of Sarah Rogers.

 

“So, did you and Kevin have fun?”

 

Bucky shrugged. “It was okay.”

 

Dorian cackled. “I'm going to tell everyone that you said that. Kevin was so smug about getting you to go home with him.”

 

Bucky frowned. “Why?”

 

Dorian outright laughed. “Because you my friend have a pretty pretty face.”

 

Right, he was handsome. He'd forgotten. He'd been proud of that once, hadn't he? He'd thought he looked like Clark Gable and had made the ladies weak in the knees. Steve had been jealous, of who exactly, Bucky wasn't sure anymore.

 

Dorian leaned over and gently touched Bucky's shoulder. “Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

 

Bucky forced a smile and shaked his head.

 

“Don't say much do you?” Dorian remarked.

 

Bucky licked his lips. The words weren't coming easy today. “One of my many faults.”

 

Dorian smiled. “S'alright. We all have them.”

 

Bucky smiled back and watched as Dorian deftly applies colour to his nails.

 

He felt like someone else. Or maybe someone new. It was a good feeling, sitting in this bright colourful place with long hair that's shifting in the breeze, colour on his nails and this young man who was sharp but kind,.

 

Maybe Bucky could become someone who fit in places like these. Someone at home in mornings, and not at nights. He imagined sitting in a cafe somewhere, with the light like this and Steve talking about Emily Dickinson and the way no other impressionist could painting a scene like this but Caillebotte.

 

He wanted that. He wanted the daytime and Steve, and talk of things that Bucky loved because Steve loved them, but which he would never understand.

 

Bucky stayed silent for a long time watching Dorian chatter at him about things he mostly didn't understand, as he carefully lifted and moved Bucky's hands, as he applied another coat of laquer.

 

“There.” he finally announced. “You're done.”

 

Bucky held his hands up. They looked like a stranger's hands. “You did a beautiful job.”

 

Dorian looked him up and down. “I think they go nicely with your hair. Now, all you need to do if stop dressing like a hobo.”

 

Bucky laughed. “I have a friend in New York who'd say the say thing.”

 

He paid with Tony's card and left a big tip.

 

He went home. Back to New York State and City, and Brooklyn and Steve.

 

It took forever to find a parking space, and he was agravated as he climbed the stairs. His heart hammered in his chest as he tried the key in the door.

 

It opened.

 

Bucky could tell right away that Steve was out.  
  


He sat, and he waited. Finally he heard a familiar tread on the sidewalk outside, and a familiar heartbeat on the stairs.

 

Steve opened the door.

 

Bucky stood up. “Hey, I'm back.”

 

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Steve asked.

 

Bucky took a step forward. “Maybe, would you mind if I did something?”

 

Steve frowned a little. “What?”

 

Bucky took another step forward and leaned in to press a kiss to Steve's mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, updating this fic in a timely manner and with a decent chapter length! 
> 
> I have a powerful headcanon that Steve Rogers had a huge crush on Katharine Hepburn and it tends to show up in fics. Katharine Hepburn tended to play a lot of strong imperious type women. 
> 
> Here are some trailers for the movies that Bucky watched:  
> The Philadelphia story: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RzoA_DAlfno  
> Bringing up Baby: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qlf6gHD-YEM
> 
> Also bonus scene from Bringing up Baby that probably spoke to Bucky in this chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_A8U6aUPW48


	11. Make a Choice, Make a Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve reacts to Bucky's kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit 2/12/2016: Hi guys! I've gotten a lot of comments from people unhappy with how this fic portrays Steve/Steve and Bucky's relationship, and there's not really anything I can say in response because overall I have to admit that of all the works I have on this site this is probably the one I'm least happy with and which really fails to convey what I was trying to convey. 
> 
> With that in mind I've decided to remove it from the site. I've been considering doing so for a while, but this is one of my more popular fics, so I'm giving those who love it some pretty advance notice. So! If you want to download or save this fic elsewhere you have a month to do so. I will be deleting this sometime in January.

 

Steve took a step back and gaped at Bucky. This was not what he'd expected.

 

Steve hadn't exactly been sitting alone in the dark like an Italian widow waiting for Bucky to come back, but Natasha had been teasing him lately by making comparisons.

 

He had the Avengers, which between their growing international controversy, and Tony's insistence on making any and all violence something that's under their jurisdiction, was becoming not just a full time job but one of those jobs where you kept an extra change of clothes at the office in case you decided to sleep there.

 

But he and Bucky had been living on top of each other in a three room apartment (four if you counted the closet) for nearly a year, so Bucky's absence was conspicuous. Of course, for all but a few days of that almost-year Bucky had been a large wolf, but he'd still been Bucky and he'd still been there.

 

Steve missed him.

 

And then Bucky'd come back and Steve was suddenly reminded of why he'd been so angry with him in the first place.

 

“I'm sorry.” Bucky said as he took in Steve's shock. “I just was missing you and got it into my head that I'd kiss you when I saw you again and I had to do it right away or I knew I'd lose my nerve.”

 

Steve just kept staring at Bucky open mouthed.

 

“I just...I want to say I've been thinking about things a lot this last month and I want to say I'm sorry: I'm sorry that I put so much on you. I'm sorry that I asked you to carry me when you were...” Bucky continued.

 

“....I mean, I'm sorry that I killed Dr. Eskine. I know he was your friend, and he meant a lot to you. I'm sorry that I came here and didn't say anything for months or offer you any explanation. I'm sorry I didn't trust you with my secret before the war. I've realized I'm maybe not who I thought I was, and I'm sorry for all the times I was cruel or mean or thoughtless and I hurt you, because...you're the last person I'd ever want to hurt Stevie.

 

I also want you to know that I forgive you for letting them take me away, and thank you for taking me in and not pushing me. I hope you can forgive me someday too. I love you, okay? And I want you to know that.”

 

Steve was making the face he always made when he was trying not to cry. He opened his mouth and shut it again.

 

“You don't got to say anything. I was going to go up to the tower to transform anyway. Just...come by? Sometime? Not tomorrow cause I think I'm gonna be a wolf all day but maybe the day after that?” Bucky added, realizing that this had taken Steve completely by surprise.

 

Steve nodded jerkily, blinking hard.

 

Bucky nodded back, grabbed his bag and left.

 

Steve sat there took a couple if deep breathes, and let himself cry silently for a few minutes before he managed to get himself back under control.

 

He stood up and paced the apartment. Unfortunately, that was really only about three steps end-to-end and Steve found himself missing his spacious D.C. pad. Though trying to get Fury's blood out of the hardwood probably would have put a damper on his continued residency there even if he wasn't being strong armed into flying around the world with Iron Man putting out the fires that they'd lit in the first place.

 

He finally threw himself onto the couch and stared at the ceiling.

 

God, he was tired. He was tired of being alone, and tired of being lost. He was fed up with fighting and being disappointed in people and things he thought he could trust. He was tired of worrying about Bucky, and tired of Bucky throwing him curve balls. He was tired of the 21 st century, and his busybody teammates. 

 

He was just so tired.

 

He thought back to his younger self who'd been inexhaustible, who'd fought to fight, and who'd transformed and who'd turned his anger into something useful. Who'd spent 2 years fighting for a just cause and who hadn't faltered. Not once. Not even when it was his own life he was sacrificing.

 

He missed Peggy. She'd brought out the best in him. He didn't visit her anymore, her good days were getting fewer and farther between and it just upset her.

 

He didn't know whether Bucky brought anything good out in him. He never had to be honest. Not anymore.

 

He didn't really believe Bucky when he said he loved him. Maybe Bucky had loved who Steve used to be. Fine-boned helpless Steve Rogers, and he couldn't help but think that part of why Bucky had loved him was because he'd been helpless. Bucky wanted love he could possess.

 

He didn't think Bucky was ever going to forgive him for undergoing Erskine's experiment, no matter what he said.

 

Steve groaned and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. There had been a while where Bucky kissing him would have been the fulfilment of several deeply held dreams. But, now?

He wasn't sure whether it was pity, or desperation or what. He didn't know if he could trust that Bucky was kissing him because he wanted to kiss him, or because he'd someone picked up that Steve had once felt that way about him (or oh god, had he known all along and just never said?) or because he knew things couldn't stay the way they were without them ending up hating each other and thought this might simplify the stupidly intense tangle of emotions that Steve felt whenever he so much as thought about his best friend.

 

God damn it Bucky. Steve cursed quietly in his own head. Things between them had been strained. Oh, who was he kidding. They been downright awful before he'd left. But, they were each literally the only other person in the world the other had left from their previous life. It wasn't as though ditching each other was an option. They'd have worked through it and been friends again. Best friends who lived together even, but Bucky had changed the script, and Steve didn't know what to do anymore.

 

Steve screwed his eyes shut. To him it felt like less than five years ago since he'd been subject to the experiment in the first place.

 

Maybe seven years since the height of his Bucky-crush? God. That had been deeply pathetic, even for Pre-serum Steve. It made him feel humiliated all over again just thinking about it.

 

And now Bucky was offering to try. To like him back and maybe love him too.

 

Steve thought about it. His crush hadn't actually ever really gone away, he'd just gotten better at managing it. His heart had skipped a beat when Bucky rounded a corner right up until the day Bucky had shown up and murdered Erskine. Then Steve had buried the few remaining romantic feelings that had survived the double blow of homicide and eldritch shape-changing under layers of resentment and anger.

 

And then there'd been Peggy, and he'd loved her like crazy and from start to finish it had been easier and simpler than loving Bucky had ever been. Certainly easier than what Bucky had just offered.

 

Steve had been so relieved when Bucky had shown up in this brave new world that the question of his old (stupidly persistent) torch being still lit hadn't even crossed his mind. Besides, he'd been a wolf at the time. Steve was hardly going to pine after a wolf.

 

He didn't know if he still felt that way about Bucky. He knew he could live without him, but the thing was he didn't want to. It was non-optional that Bucky be a part of his life, but it still sometimes felt like Bucky kept asking for more and more of Steve and giving nothing in return.

 

Steve pulled the pillow up over his face.

 

He was just tired, of everything.

 

His phone started to buzz on the coffee table and he considered ignoring it. However the odds of it actually being a national emergency meant he did not have that luxury.

 

He answered it in a huff. “Is the world ending Natasha?” he asked.

 

“No.”

 

“Well, then I'm going to hang up.”

 

“WAIT- Do you know Bucky's back?”

 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, he stopped by on his way to the tower.”

 

“Oh. Well, I thought just in case-”

 

“And then he kissed me.”

 

“....”

 

“Natasha?”

 

“Can I come over? We need to talk about this!”

 

“NO! WE DON'T!” Steve protested.

 

 

 

Natasha came over anyway of course. Steve made her some coffee and found himself, against his better judgement the way it always seemed to happen when Natasha put her mind to it, telling her everything.

 

“..I just don't know if I trust that he actually-”

 

“Can it Rogers. Let's trust that he's smart enough to know what he feels, and focus on what you feel.” Natasha snarled.

 

“Why do you always want to talk about my feelings Tasha?”

 

“Because, you have so many my friend.” she replies with a quirk of her brow. “So, how does Bucky kissing you make you feel?”

 

Steve heaved a heavy sigh.

 

“Well,” Natasha remarked. “That's not encouraging.”

 

“I don't know how I feel Natasha. I miss him, and I love him. But, I'm tired. I'm tired of working so hard just to stay in the same place.”

 

“Look it's a simple yes or no. Don't think about Bucky, and what he might do. Just think about what you would like.”

 

Steve met her gaze with wide sad eyes. “It's just not that simple Nat.”

 

“Yes, Steve. It is. Bucky's...he's made a suggestion. Do you want to be romantically involved? Yes, or No?”

 

“I...might want that. Maybe. I don't know.”

 

Nat huffed and threw up her hands. “This is why you hadn't been kissed since 1945.”

 

“I have been kissed since 1945!!”

 

“UmmmHmmm...” She didn't sound convinced. 

 

“I just...” he finally admitted. “I just don't know how to love him and I don't know how to stop.” 

 

Nat reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “So choose. Love him, or stop loving him. You can't keep going like this Steve, Bucky at least was smart enough to see that. You'll end up destroying each other if you do.” 

 

 

 

 

Steve headed uptown to the Avengers Towers, the day after next, just like Bucky had asked him to. 

 

Bucky was glad he'd listened. He'd spent the day before as a wolf to try and.. recenter himself. 

 

But he was human again this morning, and had only one more night of transformation before the moon waned. 

 

Steve strolled in unannounced. He must have asked Jarvis not to say anything when he arrived. 

 

“If I say no, does that mean you'll turn back into a wolf and it will be the end of...everything?” Steve demanded to know without preamble. 

 

Buckey stared at him. “No, Steve, of course not.” He had been planning on turning back into a wolf, if Steve rejected him though.   “I mean...things up here-” he tapped his forehead. “They hurt a lot less when I'm a wolf, so I might turn back just for a little while but-” 

 

“So, that's my choice then? Be your lover and have the person, or be your friend and have...what? The wolf? Nothing? Or is it be your lover or be nothing to you?” 

 

“That's not what I- Didn't you hear me when I said the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you?” 

 

Steve huffed and crossed his arms. “Maybe I just have trouble trusting you these days. Or trusting that at least.” 

 

Bucky took a step forward. “I won't...I won't turn back into a wolf this month. Even if you reject me. Okay? I just... I wanted to kiss you. I never meant to hurt you.” 

 

Steve was making that face he always made when he was trying to hide the fact that he was trying not to cry. “You never do.” he muttered looking away. 

 

Bucky took another step forward. “Don't cry, Stevie. Please don't cry.” 

 

Steve blinked, took a shaky breath and met Bucky's gaze. “Why did you kiss me?” he asked, and there was something like desperation in his voice. 

 

Bucky edged even closer. He wished he was a wolf now. As a wolf he always knew what he could do to comfort Steve, as a human it was harder to find the right words and the right actions. 

 

“Because I wanted to Steve. Simple as that.” 

 

Steve looked away and bit his lip. “I wish I could believe you.” 

 

“Are you saying that if you could...you'd-” 

 

“If I could believe that you just decided to kiss me because you suddenly felt you wanted to...well I might have kissed you back.” Steve admitted. 

 

Bucky tried to pretend his heart didn't leap at the words, he was practically standing toe-to-toe with Steve and the man still wouldn't meet his gaze. He cautiously wrapped and arm around Steve's shoulder and brought their foreheads together. 

 

“So, believe me Steve. I know I've let you down, I know I've lied, but I'm not lying about this. Believe me.” He begged.

 

Gingerly Steve reached up to cup Bucky's face, he nodded. “Okay. Okay, I'll try.”

 

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky and kissed the side of his head. “Just know, if you break me heart, well,  it just might kill me.”

 

Bucky tightened his own grip on Steve's broad shoulders. “Hey, I'm with you to the end of the line- you understand? The end of the line.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! Steve angst!
> 
> But look! Another update! Yay!
> 
> I hope people aren't too hard on Steve, he's had it rough too and is kind of a wreck. 
> 
> Hope you all liked it, please tell me what you think!


	12. A bit of light reading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky try and move forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit 2/12/2016: Hi guys! I've gotten a lot of comments from people unhappy with how this fic portrays Steve/Steve and Bucky's relationship, and there's not really anything I can say in response because overall I have to admit that of all the works I have on this site this is probably the one I'm least happy with and which really fails to convey what I was trying to convey. 
> 
> With that in mind I've decided to remove it from the site. I've been considering doing so for a while, but this is one of my more popular fics, so I'm giving those who love it some pretty advance notice. So! If you want to download or save this fic elsewhere you have a month to do so. I will be deleting this sometime in January.

 

They stayed at Tony's that night. The last night of Bucky's transformation and then they went home.

They went home. They don't say much the first day, or the second.

 

Bucky tentatively started pushing into Steve's space with the same gestures he used to so confidently employ when he wore his other skin.

 

He'd nudge steve's arm with his his nose when they were lying on the couch. He leaned on him. He knew it was weird but it seemed the least...risky of the various ways to touch Steve that presented themselves to him. He'd just kind of sidle up to Steve while he was pondering the view out the window about the kitchen sink (a brick wall in this case) or drying the dishes or cooking or...whatever and just sort of rest his head on the man's shoulder and lean up against him.

 

He liked being close. And he was pretty sure steve liked it. At least, he didn't mind it.

 

He was pretty sure. He'd always turn and give Bucky that watery-but sincere smile of his when Bucky did it, so Bucky figures it was probably okay.

 

It was funny living as together as men. The apartment felt much smaller than it did when Bucky was a wolf and spent most of his time sprawled on the available floorspace.

 

They'd lived together for years...before. But that was a lifetime ago even in their own minds. Bucky wondered if kissing Steve had made this easier or harder.

 

He was pretty sure it made it easier for Steve to roll his eyes at Bucky making up the sofa on the first night and jerk his head towards the bedroom with a lighthearted rebuke of “No funny business mind. My feeble old heart couldn't take it.”

 

So they slept together, and did nothing more than sleep. And sometimes Bucky would be sorely tempted to close the distance. Particularly, when he was lying against Steve as he sat on the couch, Bucky would look up and ponder the perfection of Steve's new jawline. It was very difficult to fight the urge to lean up and kiss it. Just a little.

 

He knew one of these days he'd give into the temptation. But Steve seemed...surprised and bewildered by the entire turn of events. Bucky tended to catch him staring at him as though he expected Bucky to disappear in a puff of smoke or as if he had just appeared in one.

 

He'd seen that look before. It twisted something ugly in his stomach because Steve had had that look every time Bucky left and every time Bucky came back when they were kids.

 

Bucky had been trying to do the right thing back in those days. Tried to be less of a burden on people who were struggling. Trying not to overstay his welcome by running off and living on his own for a while, half of the time on the streets.

 

What had he been thinking? What must it have been like for Sarah and Steve to go through the paces of their lives wondering if someone they loved was ever going to come back? To have someone throw their love and acceptance back in their faces and treat their feelings with callous disregard?

 

He wasn't going to do that this time. He wasn't going to hurt Steve anymore. He'd hurt him so much without realizing. Hell, he still hadn't realized the how wrong he'd done by Steve until his friend had looked at him with fractured eyes and told him if he broke his heart it might kill him.

 

Now, Steve had always been dramatic. It was a specialty of his and probably why they'd put him on the propaganda circuit. But he'd also hated showing any weakness. He'd only admitted to things that were facts- 'I think my wrist might be broken.' 'I think I'm about to faint.' “I can't breathe.' Truths that Bucky needed to know but Steve hated to admit even though he was smart enough to realize he needed to.

 

Bucky hated that he'd hurt Steve badly enough the consequences of heart break were in that category.

 

Of course Steve had also fought in a war and washed up in a strange century thinking everyon he'd ever known was dead. So, it wasn't all Bucky's fault. Not anymore than Bucky's issues were all Steve's.

 

At that something clicked into place.

 

Bucky sat up and turned to look at Steve who was sprawled out on top of the covers next to him reading something about art.

 

“Steve?” Bucky asked breaking the silence. Neither of them talked as much as they used to.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Do you have my file? S'just I was thinkin' and I realized you would have asked for it. You would have wanted to know what happened to me. Did they give you my file?”

 

Steve turned slowly to look at him. His eyes were like a rabbit that had spied Bucky in his wolf skin.

 

“I looked at it. But I had to give it back.” Steve answered warily

 

“Can you get it?” Bucky asked, relentless as a dog with a bone.

 

Steve let out a long sigh and looked at the ceiling. “I don't know. I don't know what they did with SHIELD's old paper records after I brought them down. Beside, you don't want to look at that.” He said the last part with complete off-had certainty, as though there were no other option but for Bucky to accept his judgement.

 

Bucky stared at him. There was something simmering in his lungs. Something ugly and human that he didn't want to let out. “Why Not?” He demanded “I lived it didn't I?”

 

Steve flinched and closed his eyes. The only sort of running away Steve ever did. He'd never run from a fight but that didn't mean he could always face one. “But you don't remember it... do you?”

 

Bucky clamped his mouth shut and glared at the wall as he tried to find the words to explain to Steve. Words, they'd been easy once, but now it was soo difficult to make himself understood sometimes.

 

Finally he tapped himself between the eyes. “Maybe not here. Things up here work different when I'm a wolf. It's part of why I stayed one for so long things...hurt...less, but- I do remember things. I remember a lot of things that happened to me, I just don't understand them. I remember bits and pieces and then forget them again. It's all there though, I just can't look at it. I can't see what they did to me but I can feel it and it bleeds out sometimes.”

 

Steve blinked. “I'll have...someone bring it over. It might be online but the paper copy is also probably around somewhere.”

 

Bucky nodded and leaned down to rest his head against Steve's neck. “Whacha readin' Stevie?” he asked, letting his old accent, the one that he'd lost for a while bleed through his words.

 

Steve huffed. “Nothing you'd be interested in Buck.”

 

Bucky butted his head gently against Steve's neck in protest. “Try me.”

 

“S'about art.” Steve explained. “The changes that happened after the war, all these guys comin' back and going to Art school on the GI bill, not to mention the Avant-garde of Europe crossing the pond to save their skins from Hitler. New York became the centre of the art world. Can you imagine? Remember how badly I wanted to go to Paris? Well, Paris, in a way, came here--”

 

Bucky smiled against Steve's neck and felt that things were getting better. He was getting better. With each day he stayed in the skin of a man he became more human, he was sure of it. And christ he loved Steve so much he thought he might die of it some days.

 

He looked up as Steve finished his explanation of the book so far and the opened it and started reading aloud. Bucky let the words wash over him without really listening. He used to do that a lot before. It drove Steve nuts. Or it used to, when it was about important things, the one thing Steve never was annoyed at Bucky for not listening to was when he talked about art. Bucky thought it was because Steve loved it so much it didn't matter whether or not anybody was listening, some times he just needed to talk about it.

 

Bucky had always like listening to Steve talk about art, even if he was always so bored by it that he lost the thread of the conversation by the 4th word. Steve got happy and excited when he talked about it. It was one of the few things that stayed the same.

 

Bucky slowly drifted off to the sound of Steve happy. It felt like a long time since Steve had talked about something that made him happy.

 

Steve started speaking more and more softly as he felt Bucky relax against him and slowly drift into unconsciousness. Eventually Bucky's breathing was deep and even enough that Steve knew he was asleep. He stopped and looked down at him as much as he could without jostling his...friend? Not enough. Lover? Not, at the juncture, technically accurate. Boyfriend? That was the term in this century wasn't it?

 

Back where Steve was from they called someone their 'gal' or their 'girl'. He didn't know what men who kissed other men had called one another.

 

His fella, maybe?

 

Gingerly he reached over and ran his fingers through Bucky's hair. God, but it had gotten long. He was starting to look like some of the pictures Steve had seen from some of the decades he'd missed.

 

He wanted to lean down and kiss him, but that seemed wrong somehow. Partly because he wasn't sure that Bucky would be okay with that. He didn't want to be...he didn't want to cross any lines. So he carefully settled himself back on the bed, shifting Bucky from his shoulder to the pillow and scootching down so he was next to him. It was a tight fit, he hadn't bought this bed expecting to have to share it.

 

He traced Bucky's sleeping features in the air a hairsbreadth away from his face, careful not to actually touch him and wake him up. He did this more than he would like to admit- following the line of his brow, his nose, lips and jaw. Trying to memorize them, hold onto the sight of Bucky here and, keep it close for the day when he was gone again.

 

Natasha came the next day with the file.

 

Bucky ducked his head and didn't say a word to her. It felt strange interacting as a man with people he'd only ever known as a wolf. She smiled at him though. He liked that.

 

Steve handed him the file and left him in the living room with it while he went for a run.

 

Slowly, Bucky laid the papers out on the kitchen table. There were pictures and diagrams and pages full of dense type-written notes. He started reading. He should have asked Steve to stay and read aloud to him, it would have gone quicker.

 

Steve came back later that evening to find Bucky sitting at the table staring straight ahead into nothingness. He looked like he had been crying, but the tears had dried on his cheeks.

 

The file was closed and Bucky had his hands resting on the back cover. He blinked up at Steve.

 

“The last note is from 1967.” He says distantly. “The moral objection from one of the scientists.”

 

Steve nodded. “ I assumed the program had been ended.”

 

“It wasn't.”

 

“No.”

 

“Where's the rest of it?”

 

Steve shrugged. “I don't know, Buck. I wish I did. I guess they put you on ice for a while, probably the new file is digital. It might have been burned or destroyed when I took down SHIELD. No matter what Natasha may have claimed there were a lot of things that weren't dumped on Twitter.”

 

Bucky smoothed his hand over the back of the file. Steve knows what's in there. The pictures, the notes. The observations from experiments, and reports from missions. All amounting to a record of torture. The torture of his best friend. The person he loves.

 

He took a step towards Bucky.

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

Bucky looked at the table, head bowed. “Why? It's not your fault.”

 

“It kind of is. I should have stopped them.”

 

“I should have stopped myself.”

 

Steve took a deep breath. “It wasn't your fault either Bucky.”

 

That surprised Bucky into looking up at him. Blue eyes met blue eyes. “That's not true.”

 

“Sure it is.” Steve sat down next to Bucky. “You killed a man, but that-” he reached over and tapped the file. “was not on you. That was them. It was wrong, and I wish I could blame it on secret Nazi infiltration but I can't. That ugliness is on SHIELD. No one else. Not me and not you.”

 

Bucky blinked at him and his eyes filled with tears. “You were right. I didn't want to see that. I thought I did but-”

 

Steve wanted to hug him to hold him close and protect him from all the wrongs the world has done him, but he didn't know if Bucky wanted that right now. He didn't want to spook him.

 

He reached out and wiped a tear off Bucky's face. Bucky didn't react, so Steve leaned closer and gently embraced him. Bucky took a second to react but when he did it was to crush Steve closer not further away.

 

“I love you Buck. I've always loved you. I wish I could shoulder this for you.”

 

Buck laughed weakly against Steve's chest. “When you can't walk, you crawl and when you can't crawl, you find somebody to carry you.”

 

“Well, I do have superstrength- carrying you would be easy.”

 

Bucky laughed. Steve leaned down, emboldened and kissed him on the mouth. Bucky gasped in surprise.

 

He leaned back. “You've got one hell of a sense of timing Stevie.”

 

Steve frowned. “Hey, language!”

 

Bucky chuckled, it was still weak but it was something. He kept his arms around Steve's waist and rested his head on one wide shoulder.

 

“I don't really feel like kissing right now.”

 

“Okay, what do you want to do?”

 

Bucky shrugged. “Got anything with Cary Grant on television?”

 

“You keep watching flicks with him and I'm gonna get jealous Buck.”

 

This time Bucky didn't laugh, just twitched the corners of his mouth and kept staring off into space, his eyes wide and watery.

 

Steve carried him over to couch and they sit wrapped around each other until they go to bed.

 

The next morning Bucky kissed him awake and grinned impishly like he'd gotten away with something wonderful. Steve smiled up at him and pretends he feels that same lightness, because, God, he does love Bucky doesn't he? Even if there's a part of him that still can't believe he'll get to keep him.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Second to last chapter. Bear with me guys. The next one should be fluff and love and such. It's time to wrap this number up. 
> 
> Also, sorry this chapter is kind of...weird. It just wouldn't work the way I wanted to so finally I said 'fuck it' and I'm moving on. 
> 
> Anyway. Hope you all like it. Nothing motivates me like comments! So leave some if you like.


	13. Jimmy Stewart's Filmography

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky does not so good for a while. The Sokovia incident happens, and then a pillow fight also happens.

Bucky knew he was getting worse and it made him angry. He was fine before. He was great! He drove across the country on his own, he discovered the magical term that was 'bisexual', he made a move on Captain America!

 

But lately he didn't feel like going outside. He didn't feel like doing much of anything. He wished he could roll himself up back into his wolf skin like a warm blanket. Everything hurt so much less when he was a wolf.

 

But that would be breaking his promise to Steve, and more than anything he didn't want to let Steve down. So he did his best to go through the motions. He got up, go dressed, ate. He brushed his teeth and his hair and he occasionally cooked meals that didn't taste good but appeared to have no detrimental effect on a supersoldier or a werewolf.

 

He knew that Steve had noticed he wasn't going out really at all anymore, not unless Steve asked him and even than often he didn't join him.

 

It was just that he felt safe in the apartment. And the words and pictures from the file were still bouncing around in his head like demented killer pinballs. What if they were right?

 

He couldn't tell Steve that he was worried about that. He wanted to but he knew it would just upset him. Steve had always been a deceptively soft touch for a guy that had made punching people in the jaw one of his main hobby even pre-war and pre-being a miraculous scientific guinea pig.

 

He loves that Steve didn't ask about Bucky's new found skittishness, that he just quietly opened himself up to Bucky's need to cling without comment.

 

Bucky was frustrated. He had been beetter! And then suddenly he hadn't been.

 

Steve left for a mission. Something about the Alien Prince's sceptre. Thor's brother, what's his name. L-something. Bucky nodded and pretended not be concerned.

 

He was lying on the couch waiting for a movie he'd recorded off an old movie network to start playing.

 

It had Jimmy Stewart, which had almost been enough to make him wait for Steve, but Steve was off somewhere with the Avengers and there was no telling how long he would be.

 

And this way, he could watch it and save Steve the trouble if it wasn't any good.

 

The movie was called Harvey, it was about a man who believes with complete conviction that there is a giant invisible rabbit with whom he is friends. It's strange, and honestly Bucky found the idea that there might be giant invisible rabbit running around that he is completely unaware of a little unsettling.

 

But there's something about it. About Elwood Dowd, who has chosen to be pleasant rather than smart, and his rabbit friend and the people who accept it and the people who don't. And of course Harvey the benevolent rabbit-spirit who can stop time and likes social outcasts.

 

Bucky caught himself sniffing and wiping away tears as he glanced ashamedly around the room more than once during the movie. Men don't cry, it's one the things that seems to be the same these days.

 

He fell asleep on the couch waiting for Steve to get back, even though he knew the round trip to Sokovia would take all day even if he didn't have to stop to fight undead Nazis (Bucky was still a little fuzzy on a) what Hydra was and b) why it was still around).

 

Bucky woke up and washed his face. After a long moment of uncertainty he grabbed one of Steve's jacket's, even though it didn't quite fit- Steve's taller but Bucky's broader.

 

He wandered through the streets, the chill of the fall air cut through his light jacket but he kept going. He looked at the familiar-strange street, and had a sense of vertigo- it was uncanny sometimes to see this new Brooklyn that was still somehow still Brooklyn.

 

He passed the alley behind what once was the butcher's stop he used to wake up in back before he realized that his wolfy-blackouts could end in manslaughter and accidental cannibalism, though really did it could as cannibalism if you weren't human when the consumption of flesh occurred?

 

The thought made Bucky's skin crawl.

 

He avoided dogs, now that he had such clear memories of living as something not dissimilar to a dog he found being near them was just...weird. It was so weird. It dogs seemed wrong, but Bucky's skin did too. It was...it was just weird.

 

If he could he'd cross to the other side of the street to avoid them.

 

He bought a coffee and met the barista's eyes with a smile as he handsed over the money.

 

He was feeling better. Steadier- more human. He imagined Harvey the invisible rabbit walking with him, with a standing offer to whisk him off to Akron if it got to be too much. It didn't. Besides, what would Bucky do in Akron? That was one aspect of the film he honestly didn't understand.

 

He went home with his groceries and a sense of accomplishment.

 

He got a call from Steve saying they were on their way back, and Stark was throwing a party if he'd like to come. There are few things that Bucky likes less than going to one of Stark's very fancy, very public parties so he told Steve to go and have fun.

 

He fell asleep on the couch waiting for Steve to come home, inevitably early and relieved to have escaped. He woke up when the sun came through the blinds the next day. Steve still wasn't back.

 

Bucky didn't panic. He got up, made breakfast, sat back down. He watched 'Harvey' again, and tried to wrap his mind around Jimmy Stewart getting old.

 

1941, Jimmy Stewart had been the charming, if awkward journalist who nearly ran away with Katharin Hepburn's heart. By 1950 he was middle aged, Bucky had been as good as dead for nearly a decade., and Steve had been basically-almost-really-dead for at least 5 years.

 

It made him sad to think of that.

 

He put on some music and lay back and listened.

 

A day went by, and then another and another. Eventually Bucky tried to stop counting and held on tight to the idea that if Steve were dead, Pepper would have called.

 

He hadn't gone into the bedroom since that first night, he just camped out on the couch. He didn't like being in Steve's room without him.

 

Finally, Steve stumbled through the door, glassy eyed and in civilian clothes . Bucky lept to his feet as his...lover(?) collapsed into his arms.

 

“Christ Stevie, you alright?”

 

“I am, a lot of other people aren't though-” Steve muttered from the general vicinity of Bucky's left clavicle. “Tony...Tony almost just destroyed the world. Bruce is gone. Natasha's heartbroken, Clint apparently had a secret family this entire time....”

 

“Jesus...I'm tryin' ta be cool but you really scared me and I'd really just like to kiss you right now, that okay?” Bucky blurted out as the full force of the panic he'd been suppressing all week smashed into him.

 

Steve seemed to consider it. He nodded.

 

Bucky kissed him desperately, trying to convey with his tongue and teeth and lips how scared he'd been and how relieved he was that Steve was back and seemed physically sort-of-alright. Once the panic had subsided he pulled away and kissed his cheek, his mouth, his eyes, every time he felt he could step back the feeling of desolate lost came back and he had to kiss Steve again. “Don't you EVER do that again, Steve.” He berated between kisses. “Call me.”

 

“I couldn't” is Steve's stone cold reply.

 

Bucky withdrew to arms length and fought the urge to shake Steve. “WHY?”

 

“Because Tony accidentally made an evil robot that escaped into the internet and I had to make sure he wouldn't track you down.”

 

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “ _You_ told me that the AI was friendly.” He'd known this was going to happen damn it! Robots always turned evil!

 

“This is a different AI. An evil one. Jarvis has a body now, by the way, and a new name. He's calling himself 'Vision' and is apparently in love with Thor? Maybe.” Steve explained without really explaining anything.

 

“How would you know if he was in love with Thor? You never realised I was in love with you.” Bucky couldn't help but ask.

 

“Bucky. _You_ didn't realize you were in love with me.”

 

“The point still stands...but wait why is Bruce gone?”

 

“He sort of destroyed a city because of mind-control. Oh, also, Tony's retiring.”

 

“Well, yeah, if he created a robot that tried to destroy the earth- he damn well better retire. Finally some good news.”

 

They sat down on the couch.

 

“So...what did you do while I was away.” Steve asked.

 

“I explored Jimmy Stewart's filmography.”

 

“Huh.” Steve had his head tilted back halfway looking at the ceiling. “Anything good?”

 

“There's this movie called 'Harvey' from 1950 you might like, and Frank Capra did a religious movie called 'It's a Wonderful Life' which would be good for you. Also, he worked with some director called Hitchcock who I dunno, was seriously messed up in the head.”

 

“You wanna watch something now?” Steve asked.

 

Bucky turned to look at him. “Mainly I'd like to climb into bed with you and do all sorts of things that go against what the nuns taught us.”

 

“Bucky, the nuns taught us that if we masturbated we'd go blind- I think we can safely say they were not authorities on sexual matters.”

 

“I know that! I just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

 

Steve looked at him with such love and softness that Bucky knew he could live a thousand years and never live up to that look. He leaned in and kissed him anyways.

 

Steve kissed him back. “Thank god for you Bucky, you're a god damn miracle.”

 

“Says you.”

 

“I'm a man-made miracle- there's a difference.”

 

The sex is not without incident. They're both new at this, but they go carefully, and superstrength only accidentally sends someone (Bucky) flying off bed once, but Bucky just climbs back on top of Steve laughing at the look of shock on his boyfriend's face.

 

They lie tangled up in bed together afterwards and Steve whispered the story of the Robot that tried to destroy the world and the scattering of his closest friends.

 

Bucky kissed Steve's perfect jaw.

 

 

“Hey Steve, will you promise me somethin'?” He said after they'd been lying together in silence for a little while.

Steve rolled onto his side to better look Bucky in the eye. “Anything for you Buck, you know that.”

 

Bucky stared at him very seriously. “Do not ever get a dog. I have enough identity confusion without that.”

 

Steve cracked up laughing and Bucky propped himself up on his elbow to get a better view of it.

 

“I'm serious, punk!”

 

Steve finally swallowed his laughter and very solemnly answered. “I promise not to ever get a dog, as that might cause you species-confusion.”

 

Bucky nodded with mock-solemnity. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

 

He glanced nervously at Steve. “You know...I've been thinking- maybe I ought to go back to school. Get myself a trade and make a decent living. I think the careers of superheroes are pretty short, and you might need someone to support you in your old age.”

 

Steve grinned at him. “That would be great Buck!”

  
“Course, it would take a while. I never did much schoolin' didn't finish high school or nothing, so I'll need that, and then maybe I could...I dunno, do something.”

 

“You could train dogs for the military.”

 

Bucky sat up and walloped Steve with the pillow. “I said no dogs!”

 

Steve just laughed.

 

 

Steve reached out and laced their fingers together. “It's funny you should say that, 'cause it's starting to look like the Avengers are going to be moving locations, and becoming and independent international task force. How would you feel about leaving Brooklyn? Leaving the city all together?”

 

Bucky hummed and looked at the wall with a frown. “What do people even do in the country anyway? I wondered that a lot when I was driving around.”

 

Steve laughed again. “I guess we'll fight out.”

 

Bucky looked at their joined hands. “Yeah, I guess we will.”

 

“And I mean wolf-you will probably LOVE it.” Steve couldn't help but ad.

 

Bucky hit him with the pillow again, but not very hard.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it to the end guys!!! YAY!!!!
> 
> Thanks for sticking through this. We leave our heroes together and happy and looking towards the future. And also weirded out by dogs and Alfred Hitchcock but you can't win them all, can you?
> 
> Edit 2/12/2016: Hi guys! I've gotten a lot of comments from people unhappy with how this fic portrays Steve/Steve and Bucky's relationship, and there's not really anything I can say in response because overall I have to admit that of all the works I have on this site this is probably the one I'm least happy with and which really fails to convey what I was trying to convey. 
> 
> With that in mind I've decided to remove it from the site. I've been considering doing so for a while, but this is one of my more popular fics, so I'm giving those who love it some pretty advance notice. So! If you want to download or save this fic elsewhere you have a month to do so. I will be deleting this sometime in January.


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